


Sound Of Madness

by FloodFeSTeR



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Blood Kink, Comforting Dean, Comforting Sam, Dark Dean Winchester, Dean Has Issues, Dean Sings, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Murder, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Gang Rape, Gangbang, Gentle Dean, Hurt/Comfort, Licking, Love Triangles, Protective Dean Winchester, Protective Sam Winchester, Psychological Trauma, Psychopaths In Love, Rape Aftermath, Rape Recovery, Revenge, Sam has Nightmares, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Threesome - F/M/M, Triggers, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings, Vaginal Mutilation, Violence, Violent Thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-23
Updated: 2016-06-27
Packaged: 2018-04-10 19:57:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 12
Words: 28,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4405457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FloodFeSTeR/pseuds/FloodFeSTeR
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Dean are too late to stop her rape, but take it upon themselves to carry the burden of a damaged Esther. She seems fine at first, but things begin to spiral fast.<br/>She's been scarred, mutilated and the boys have to figure out how to fix this. So they try.<br/>In their own ways.<br/>In the end, Esther wonders if she was better off handling this alone than ever having met them.</p><p>!!! Seriously, don't come in and bookmark unless you can handle some pretty twisted shit. I've lost two marks over the content in chapter 6 for some reason !!!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It starts with rape.

Not the first of the night, that was about...an hour ago? Two?

You tend to lose track of time when your hands are being held down by thick, sausage fingers to the rim of a filthy dumpster.

I let out the loudest scream I can still _manage_ , despite my own, dirty, underwear stuffed into my mouth; its muffled and there's no way its reached any sympathetic ears. The scream drags and scratches along my throat, and I'm sure I'll be hoarse if I live.

"Shut the fuck up already," the biggest of five lumbers behind me, eyes burning against my spread sex.

I can see the mixture of dried and fresh blood along my thighs and around my calves, cum mingled in there somewhere. I don't need to see it to know I'm _ruined_ down there. I feel it when he grabs my hips and thrusts into me, his fourth go round at my aching body, and I sob, letting my head drop to the dumpster lid.

I jerk and chaff against the metal as he thrusts into me, over and over again; I'm mildly surprised to find he still has anything left in him. It feels like an eternity I've been stuck here.

"Mitch, come on," the pudgy man holding my right arm down snaps at what I assume is their leader. "My turn!"

They snap at each other like dogs but Mitch never loses his rhythm and I can't stop the tears from flowing.

I just wanted a decent night, ya know.

I had just gotten my dream job, dancing at the local theater. We were supposed to go touring soon and before I threw myself in, I wanted one night with a couple of drinks and my best friend Jessica there to support me.

But Jessica never showed.

And two shots of tequila later, I gave up on the bar.

I had still been so _ecstatic_ , I didn't even care what her excuse was. My dream to be a professional ballet dancer. My mother would have been proud, dad wanted a boy but what can ya do. I was supposed to call him a long time ago, but that was before these pigs had snatched me off the street.

The reak of alcohol and a meaty fist against my jaw had snuck us behind an _Arby's_ , shut down three days ago for health code violations.

Never saw the men before, didn't care, I begged to be let go. I pleaded and sobbed and explained but they had just punched me again, and laughed about it. The streets had been empty so no one heard my struggles, saw them carry me back here basically hog tied by their hands.

" _Fuuuuuck_ ," Mitch crooned, large hands grabbing my hips tightly and jerking me back against him like a rag doll.

I could feel it all, cum washing into me, bathing my insides. It made me have the instant thought of _strike me down_. But God would never be so merciful. If he were kind and all powerful, this wouldn't be happening.

I'd be home in bed, or watching the news like always. Living my bland life and merging to fame, like I was meant to.

Not someone's cum bucket behind an old building.

I feel him drag and rip out of me, laughing as he stumbles back and my legs quiver, begging to give out; the heels I'm wearing are making my ankles scream on their own.

"Fuckin' torn to shreds," he laughs and chortles like its actually funny. Like he's _proud._  "Alright, Billy - your turn."

I don't see this Billy, but I certainly hear him. "Why do you have to bleed so damn much," he rumbles, fingers digging into my and gathering blood, cum and the spit used as lube.

He's bigger than the others, wider, and I can tell when I actually feel him enter through the pain. I try to kick my rubbery left leg out but someone kicks me right back, in the back of the knee and I collapse.

Billy grabs my hips for reassurance and starts to pound into me, his grunts sounding like the worst thing I've ever heard in my life.

I can't even cry anymore. It hurts too much.

He doesn't last as long as the others, three minutes tops, and I feel heat spread up by pelvis and spread; I pray the rape kit shows no pregnancy.

All at once, they let me go.

The men holding my arms released me and my chin hits the edge of dumpster as I fall, introducing more pain as I slide off Billy's bloody dick.

I watch through slit eyes, marinating in hot garbage and my own blood, as he tucks away his tool and he leers down at me.

I shudder and close my eyes, feeling a cold breeze washing over me. Death? I can't really place a claim to this feeling, but it doesn't block my hearing. I hear them laughing and fading away, talking about shit not even related to this, like they hadn't just gang banged an innocent young woman for no reason other than their own enjoyment.

I whimper, but can't bring myself to pull the panties from my mouth. My whole body aches and it hurts to blink, let alone lift my hand to my mouth.

 _Daddy_ , my mind whispers into nothingness.

What happened next could be described as many things.

A miracle or a tragedy, depends on whether or not I was dead yet. I hear ya can't really tell until you see pearly gates or the fires of oblivion.

I don't know.

I do know that the figure approaching from the mouth of the alley was coming from the motel near by, I know he had several garbage bags in his hands and I know when he saw me that he almost lost his shit.

"Ah fuck," his voice was gruff, not deep, and I actually relaxed.

He wasn't one of the men to rape me.

He dropped the bags and they clattered loudly against chipped concrete, his boots smacking roughly as he sprinted in the opposite direction.

I slumped in defeat, closing my eyes for real this time and just waiting for death. Or that stranger. Maybe he was a kind soul, maybe he would call 911 and they would pull me from the brink.

The next thing I felt though, was someone pulling my panties from my mouth.

My instant reaction was to take in a much needed breath that didn't reek of blood and cum, the cold prevented me from smelling the garbage, all I got was stale air.

"Easy," a new voice murmured above me and I cracked an eye open, seeing a new man crouching above me, handsome face creased with something akin to hatred. "Easy there," he murmured again. "Can ya speak?"

I hesitated, eyes wheeling until I saw the stranger from before hovering nearby. He went to get help, but not like I expected. I looked back to the man above me and nodded, to which he smiled kindly at.

"Gimme a name, sweetheart," he whispered.

I swallowed and then let out a small, strangled, cry of pain at the raw surface of my throat. "Esther," I managed. "My name is Esther."

He gave me a deeply sympathetic look and nodded. "Well, Esther, I'm gonna pick you up and take you to our motel room. My brothers gonna call 911, got it?"

I did, and nodded accordingly. "I...I'm gonna go to sleep," I croaked.

He looked back at who I assumed was his brother. "Think that's okay?"  
The brother hesitated. "They hit you in the head?"

I nodded softly. "Punched me in the jaw," I winced. "I'm...I'm missing two teeth."

The brother sighed. "So long as it wasn't blunt force to like the back of the head...yeah, she's okay to sleep."

My whole body sagged at the relief and I closed my eyes. I briefly felt myself being lifted but I was numb to any possible pain.

I was weightless.

 

~~~

 

"I knew I heard somethin'," Dean murmured as he gently laid her out on the sofa of his and Sam's motel room.

"Couldn't have thought it was that," Sam shook his head, setting the motel phone down. "Cover her up."

She was naked as the day she was born, streaks of black goo on her arms and torso. Blood was all over her, just like the bruises and the shallow cuts where nails had dug in. She was busted up, most of the blood on her thighs so they got the gyst of what happened.

"Fucking pigs," Dean snapped, standing over Esther's unconscious body.

"We got her right now," Sam soothed, crossing his arms over her chest. "She'll...she'll be relatively fine."

She would never be the same, that's for sure, but she would get the treatment she needed. 

Sam could see the way Dean stood, his train of thought now: he felt responsible for her now. Sam shook his head but didn't say anything, there was no point. Sam understood, he had found her first. He didn't know if he'd be able to just...send her on her way now.

"We'll go to the hospital with her," Sam murmured as he opened the door, hearing sirens closing in.

Dean said nothing.


	2. Chapter 2

I wake with a violent jerk, my skin slick with sweat and my jaw throbbing, among other places.

I hiss and cover my eyes at the blinding light above my head, falling back into over-fluffy pillows. My eyes sting and burn, my ears sensitive to the incessant beeping to my right. My whole body hums with annoying discomfort, but I reach out, trying to shut off the alarm.

"Easy now," a firm hand catches my wrist.

And I stiffen, alarm forgotten as memories flood me. The brutal men, their hands and their use of my body.

I scream and flail, bringing my other hand down on it but feeling something like hairs rubbing on my forearm. I don't care, I want him away from me! He's just gonna hurt me again, like the others. I can't even find comfort in a familiar voice because it just reminds me of them and their grabbing hands.

Another hand grabs my other wrist and I freeze, the beeping even louder and there's a click at the door. Words are muffled in my ear and then its lips close to my ear, another click at the door and someone muffled on the opposite side.

"Esther," the voice is growing on me. "Esther, _stop_."

Recognition.

I whimper as my eyes open, my face going slack with tears as I recognize the brother of the two men that found me after the attack. His face is creased with concern but he offers me a small smile, laying my hands down in my lap as I stare at his face.

I realize, then, that I'm in a hospital bed and that beeping is my heart monitor.

"Its only been a couple of hours," he murmured. "My name is Sam, by the way. My brothers name is Dean."

I don't say anything right away, eyes wandering around the room, cautious and confused. I look back at his face and he's still watching me, which creeps me out and yet, its comforting. He was _kind_ , he got _help_ , just like his brother.

Who wasn't in the room.  
"Wh-Where is he," I questioned, voice low and scratchy.

Sam sighs instantly and leans back in the chair he's sitting in; he shrugs. "He left about an hour ago...said he had some business to deal with. Wouldn't tell me much," he paused. "I wanna say he said call him when you woke up."

I nod softly and look up at the ceiling when he pulls his cellphone out. I swallow and it hurts, I breath and it feels like my lungs are collapsing. I'm torn and battered; my tongue traces to empty spaces in my gums, right side of my jaw. My teeth are somewhere I don't know, and I don't really care.

 _I want to go home_.

"Esther?"

I blink a couple of times and look over at Sam, see him staring at me in concern."Sorry," I reach up, touching my face lightly. "I'm just...," I shook my head softly. "What is it," I drop my hand, looking at him.

He puts his phone away in his coat pocket and shrugged a little. "Called your name a few...nevermind, not important. Deans still busy, I'll drive you home whenever you're ready."

I have to smile at him, despite deeply seeded distrust that barks at me from the back of my head. He doesn't seem like a bad person, he seems kind and genuine, but...

"Miss. Roberts?"

Sam and I both look to the woman entering the room. She's a doctor with that coat and a file in her hand, her eyes curious on the two of us behind thickly framed glasses. She shuts the door slowly as I find my voice again, unsure if I even want to talk.

"Yes," I finally decide.

She smiles softly and approaches the foot of my bed. "Good news," she questions and I nod my head. "You're not pregnant," I let our a shuddering sigh of relief. "But...you will be bed ridden for a few days. Your," she paused and looks at Sam, back to me. " _Lower region_ is...heavily damaged. It will heal but there will be scars."

As I expected.

I didn't need her to _tell_ me what I _felt_ during the assault. I couldn't even find sorrow in the relief of not being pregnant. That may have been the only time God helped - aside from bringing in Sam and his brother - but I am more than thankful for it.

"The police are searching for your attackers," the doctor murmurs, flipping through the delicate papers in her hands. "But there has been no luck. Blood pressure is normal, you seem fairly stable except for your heart rate elevating but I'm sure that was just the shock of seeing him there," she wagged her pen at Sam.

"He saved me," I whisper. "His brother too."  
"Yes, Dean," the doctor nods slowly. "Yes, he was quite angry before he left. Guess to get some rest."

"He doesn't like seeing women hurt," Sam murmured.

"Well, who does," the doctor smiled kindly.  
"Apparently the men who raped me last night enjoy it quite a bit," I snap and then groaned at the rough scratch on my throat.

The doctor sighs, closing the file gently in her hands. I don't feel bad for being so crass, I think I've earned my right to be mean for a moment.

"When can I be released," I ask after a pregnant pause.

She shrugs and pushes her glasses up her nose. "Honestly...tonight? Whenever you feel like it. Though I will have to caution you that your wounds are very sensitive and require hourly attention. You will need someone to stay with you for a few days."

"I don't have anyone," I wouldn't _dare_ bring Jessica in on this, she doesn't need to know.

I was embarrassed enough that two strange men had seen me that way, I didn't need over dramatic Jessica sobbing while I told her not to.

"I can assign a nurse," she offered.

My frown must have spoke volumes, because next thing I know Sam is speaking up. "We can take care of her."

The doc and I give him bewildered looks and he seems a little confused himself. The doc clears her throat and I swivel my head to see her, watch her lips quirk as she gives me a look that says if I want him escorted out, I just have to say so.

"Is that okay, Miss. Roberts?"

After a moment I nod, slowly, but its still a nod. "Yeah, yeah I'm okay with that," I really am.

Sam bobs his head once and looks up, broad brow furrowed. "She just needs help cleaning the wounds on her arms and back, right?"

Doc nods, still a bit apprehensive about this whole thing. "Yes, other areas can be self treated. She may need assistance walking to and from things for a few days but recovery is looking promising. Should be good as new in no time," she sputtered. "I mean, physically, that is."

Thanks, doc, real fucking helpful.

I sigh and relax once she's out of the room again and muster up my best smile for Sam. "Thank you," I murmur.

"No problem, we're in town for a few days -"

"No," I shake my head. "No, I mean for saving me in the first place. You may not have swooped in and stopped the deed but most people...they would have left me there for the cops to find."

His smile is tender. "Helping people..." He shrugged and leaned back in his chair; it creaked under his weight. "Its what me and my brother do."

I smile and close my eyes, feeling real tired, real fast. "Hell of a job," I murmur.

He chuckles, it is both bitter and warm. "You have no idea."

 

~~~

 

Didn't take much searching to find the pigs that assaulted Esther.

All frequent flyers of the bar Esther was seen in, one a decorated marine that got out on account of a bone spur in his foot that began to make serving difficult.

Well, if the bone spur wasn't helping, his freshly broken leg wasn't doing much to help either.

" _Please_ ," he begs, left arm limp at his side. He's propped up against the wall of his apartments kitchen, bleeding slowly and painfully. "I don't know..."

His head starts to droop and his whimpers become patchy.

He's losing consciousness.  
Dean sighs and crouches down in front of him, slapping his left cheek slightly. "Come on, Billy," his voice has dropped in anger. "Stick with me, pal. Just gimme the name of your little gang-bang leader and I leave ya alone," there's a little glimmer of hope when he looks up at Dean, who grimaces. "Damn, boy. Shit brown eyes."

Billy lets out a disgusting sob but doesn't speak so Dean rolls his eyes and stands, pulling the gun from the back of his jeans. Billy stiffens when he sees it, but Dean doesn't point it at him. He saunters over to the pudgy man strapped to the chair in the center of the room. He's naked and bloody - Dean had caught them fucking of all things.

They didn't even like women and they helped rape her.

Dean presses the barrel of the gun against the fat fucks head, cocking his own head as he stares at Billy. "Just give me his _fucking name_ ," Dean rumbles, slowly pulling back the hammer.

 **Panic**.

Fresh and beautiful in his eyes while he blubbers, stutters and produces a name. "Mitch," he finally gives up. "His name is Mitch. Owns the tackle shop on the North side of town, across from the high school. He should still be doing inventory - _please stop!_ "

Dean pursed his lips and slowly nods, lowering the gun. "Now," he smiles charmingly and Billy shudders. "Was that so hard?"

He puts away the gun and Billy continues to sob, but Dean could care less. He walks back into the small kitchen, inches from the - possibly permanently - crippled man. He slides the instruments back into their respective pouches, rolling up his torture kit, and tucking it under his right arm.

Billy inhales sharply when Dean stops at the door, the door cracked and the silence deafening.

Dean whistles lowly as he looks over at Billy, pulling out a butterfly knife that opens with a flick of the wrist. He wags it in front of Billy's eyes and then tosses it across the room, smiling brightly again before he decides its time to go.

"Thank you, Billy," he paused again on the threshold. "Oh, and Billy," he peeks back in. "Tell anyone it was me...warn your friend...and I'll just come back for you. But you'll make it. Your boyfriend won't."

Its enough to further instill the fear of God into the piece of shit and Dean chuckled when he shuts the door.

  
~~~

  
She and Sam are asleep when he makes it back to the hospital.

The halls were empty, a small town trauma center with a low trickle. The only other patient he saw was a junky tweaking in their room, and she had leered at him in a way even he felt violated with.

He isn't quiet in his approach, but still Sam needs to be jostled to be woken. His eyes bug and whirl, like a cornered cat, before he realizes its just his brother. He sags into his chair and Dean pulls up his own at Esther's bedside, watching her wrapped chest slowly rise and fall.

"Where'd you go, man," Sam grumbles, rubbing his left eye with his knuckle.

Dean shrugged. "Just had to blow off some steam," he leaned onto his knees, looking over at his brother. "She wake up?"

Sam nodded, rubbing his face. "Yeah, for a minute. Freaked out, talked to the doctor," he paused in hesitancy. "I offered us to take care of her. I just figured...she said she didn't have anyone and she needs special care."

Dean held up a hand. "I get it," more than Sam knew. "We're still in town for a week, and I got some personal stuff to handle now. Its cool."

Sam gave his brother an odd look but didn't push it. "Where'd you go, though," it was nagging at him. "When you called early looking for the tools...what'd you do?"

Dean chuckled and sat up straight. "Just went to see a friend I didn't know lived here now," he smiled at Sam. "And I couldn't find it it. I did some inventory. We need salt and we need to replenish the holy water."

Sam nodded slowly. "I guess I can handle that myself tomorrow. You cool with checking her out by yourself?"

Dean nodded. "No problem, man."

Sam still looks apprehensive, but Dean didn't really care.

What his little brother didn't know wouldn't hurt him


	3. Chapter 3

Dean is there when I wake up.

But Sam is not.

I rolled my head around but he's still not anywhere to be seen; Dean is stretched out on the small couch in the corner of the room, chest rising slowly and steadily in sleep. I relax back into the pillows, closing my eyes and taking a couple of steadying breaths.

A dream.

A bad,  _bad_ dream.

Basically a replay of my rape...with better lighting.

"Finally, you're awake."

I jumped and opened my eyes, looking over at Dean. He was rubbing his face thoroughly with his hands, like he was trying to wake up. Damn, he had some great eyes, deep green yet nearly fluorescent; maybe it was just the lighting.

"Yeah," I murmured, pushing myself up just a little more; everything hurt, but the pain was dull compared to yesterday. "When did you get in?"

He stood and crossed the room, his eyes never once wavering from me as he sat in one of the two chairs settled next to my bed. He looks dead on his feet and almost angry, but I didn't ask, probably wasn't my place. I was just concerned about the muscles in the back of my thigh twitching uncontrollably.

"Got in sometime after you fell asleep," he scrubbed a hand over his face again. "Been a couple of hours...I'm checking you out. Cool with that?"

I tensed slightly. "What about Sam?"

"He's doing errands," was all he said. "Look, if you want to wait or -"

"No," I cut him off. "No, its okay. I don't mind. You both saved me..."

"It was nothing," he tried.

I didn't even try to fight this one because I could already tell it was a fight I wouldn't win. I closed my eyes again and tried to calm my heart that was beating  wildly in my chest. This was going fast, but I wanted to get home. 

How was I supposed to explain this to my instructor? How was I going to explain to my friends why they couldn't come over? My parents? God, they were probably worried sick about me. I never missed a call with them and I didn't know where my cell phone was. Had the police taken it? No. Why would they do that?

I reached up and massaged the bridge of my nose, stress pulling at me. "Dean," I looked over at him and he looked up, expression waiting. "Please get me out of here."

He smiled a little. "No problem."

 

~~~

 

"Sam'll be here soon," Dean explained as he helped Esther hobble into the front door of her home.

She nodded slowly, looking around the small living room with a look of immense relief. He shut the front door as she arched her back, her face twisting in intense discomfort. 

She could walk, and that was good because he didn't feel like pushing around a wheelchair despite the feeling that he needed to care for her at least while they were in town; an overwhelming sense of responsibility, he supposed he got it from having to watch Sam most of their lives.

She looked back at him and smiled. "I really appreciate this," she murmured. "You don't have to stay here with me the whole time."

"I know," she declared a little. "That came out more harsh than I intended."

She chuckled and waved a hand, cringing as she began to limp towards the staircase. "I hate to ask this..." She gave him a guilty look. "But can you help me get dressed...again?"

He chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck in an embarrassed way. "Yeah I guess."

"I can't apologize or thank you enough," she shook her head as she climbed the stairs. She scowled as he climbed up past her, waiting at the top of the stairs. "You guys really don't have to do this. I'm not done puppy you need to feel responsible for."

He hummed and rocked back on his heels, watching her take a relieved breath as she started down the short hallway to what he presumed was her bedroom. "Ya kind of are," he informed her, following her into her bedroom. "And Sam told me you didn't have anyone else..."

She sighed, pulling a pair of cotton capri's and a black tank top from her dresser. He had to twitch when he saw her pull out the bra; situation aside, Esther was a recently attractive woman. But then he remembered the bruises and the scratched...the horrid mutilation of her womanhood.

_Stuff those thoughts deep down, dumbass._

"I don't," she said it like she was trying to make someone - _her_ \- believe it. "I can't tell my friends, definitely not my best friend. She was supposed to drive me home and she'd feel so guilty and," she shook her head. "And I definitely can't tell my parents - my dad will kill the guy and end up in jail."

Dean gulped. "So he cares about you."

"And I don't want my dad to go to jail," she sighed. "Turn around please."

He bobber his head once and turned around, clasping his hands behind his back. He closed his eyes when he heard her let out a shaky breath, even looking back at her. Her back was taped with gauze in various places and she had yellowing bruises, scratched up and down her thighs; he'd already seen enough to feel confident in helping her clasp her bra.

"I'm usually undoing these things," he murmured.

She actually chuckled, turning around to him; her cheeks were bright red, no doubt because the only thing covered was her breasts. To be honest, she didn't give two shits right now. He was cracking jokes, trying to talk and she couldn't afford to be shy and self concious.

"I figured," she clasped his arm as she balanced, gently tugging on her capri's. "I just don't get why you're still here."

Dean was silent for a long time, tugging her shirt gently over her torso. "I've always...had to watch out for someone. My little brother. My dad, even though he denies it...guess it just comes naturally to take care of people. Even complete strangers."

She nodded, scratching her forehead. "Well a stranger like me really appreciates the kindness of a stranger," she paused. "I mean, you've seen me naked three times and we're not even dating. And you're not a creeper. Appreciation."

He almost said he had a surprise.

But it could wait, he supposed. "Need help down the stairs?"

She smiled softly. "Maybe you can carry me," she grimaced. "My lets hurt."

He chuckled and eased her up into his arms, chuckling at the squeak she gave. "I'll let Sam patch you up. I'm not that good at that."

She rolled her eyes, flinching at the way he jostled down the stairs. "You're helping me get dressed and are carrying me around my house. I think you can manage."

He shrugged. "Ya don't need it now, right?"

She shook her head. "No."

"Then lets get the basics covered."

"Like," she questioned as he set her down on her couch.

He grinned and for a moment, he could see she found it menacing. "Food."


	4. Chapter 4

I groaned as I try to get into my bed on my own. Everything ached, felt like it was close to splitting open again. My bandages on my chest and sides had been gingerly wrapped by Sam - who took over when Dean left about an hour ago - but they still ached and rubbed like raw.

"Owey," I whimpered as I cocked my knee up, quickly pushing myself up onto the bed.

I wanted to cry, the pain in my crotch was the worst of all. I'd cried for the better part of an hour with a very lost Sam trying to console me through the bathroom door. I couldn't bare to tell him about the damage, couldn't very well ask him to help me treat the area; that was too much.

I was ruined down there, they had made sure no one would ever want me ever again. They had made it to where I didn't want anyone to ever see me again, not in that way. I hadn't remembered anyone pulling a knife, but then again how could I tell the difference between the excruciating pain from a dick tearing into me and the sting of a knife?

"Esther," I looked up, seeing Sam lingering in the doorway. "You okay?"

I gave him a weak smile, sighing as I sank back into the pillows. "Yeah...just had some difficulties getting into bed," I gestures to all of me. "But I figured it out."

He gave me a small smile. "Well, I'll be downstairs if you need anything."

I bobbed my head once, reaching to turn off the lamp. "Goodnight, Sam," I hesitated and so did he. "And thank you...you and Dean really don't have to do any of this."

"Already told you," he leaned against the door frame. "We're here for a little bit, we found you, you're our responsibility until you get back on your feet," he paused. "We don't mind, really."

I nodded, not fully convinced.  "Well thank you, again.

He only smiled, pushing off the door frame. I let out a small sigh as the door clicked shut, my fingers twisting the bedside lamp off. I remained on my back, pulling my comforter up to my chest, my nose tingling with tears again.

I squeezed my eyes tightly closed, annoyed and depressed. My whole body hummed with dull pain but I didn't want to take any pain meds. I opened my eyes and looked to the orange bottle on my bedside. I had never taken pain killers before, not because I was a prude or anything, I just didn't like the way they made me feel.

But I wanted the pain to stop so I could sleep.

So I take two and sigh, staring up at the ceiling with a worried expression. I forced herself to relax and sank deeper into the pillows, closing my eyes; sleep, I needed and wanted sleep.

"I hate everything," I whispered softly.

 

*****************

 

He screams into the cloth rag staples into his cheeks; there was no spitting it out again. Blood had dried and dripped from his jaw but there was no letting up.

His throat was raw from screaming, hands tied above him and laced around the hook recently screwed into the studs. His one good eye flickered around through the darkness, not able to see where the bulb above him reached its edge.

"Okay," the deep voice rumbled, boots scaling long legs stepping into his view, black shirt torn on the right sleeve from their struggle. "You're gonna be a good boy now, hmm," there was a pause. "Mitch," he spat it at him like a bad taste in his mouth.

Mitch screamed and trembled, feeling the chill from the unforgiving concrete around them. The freak had showed up at closing time, attacking him immediately. They'd both put up a good fight, but the stranger had over powered him with youth and now here they were, in the basement of Mitch's tackle shop.

In an instant, there was a blade at his throat and Mitch screamed again, but the cold hard look in those green eyes said it was useless. He wasn't going to kill him, that was obvious. It was like he was tenderizing him for some finale.

That was no comfort.

"Big man like you," his nostrils glared as he ran disgusted eyes over his naked form. "Raping a tiny girl like Esther," a sickening feeling pooled in his gut. "I oughta kill you..." He straightened up, letting the blade drop to his side. "But no...no, I'm gonna torture you like you tortured her," he yawned and checked his watch. "But we've been here long enough."

He disappeared into the darkness again and, through his thundering heart beat and the blood rushing through his ears, Mitch heard the soft clink of the tools he'd used being thrown together. After another moment or two, the stranger approached him again, hands red and kit tucked under his arm.

He gave Mitch a menacing grin, slapping the side of his face a few times. "I'll see you tomorrow, Mitch. Don't worry about anyone coming for ya - your buddies are too scared or dead."

Ice in his veins, Mitch whimpered and slumped as the stranger whistled, boots thinking towards the stairs.

"Jee wiz girl, you're the one for me," he sang, slamming the door shut behind him.

 

*****************

 

When he walked into the house, he could hear the faint hum of the television still going in the living room so he kept his jacket on; no sense in anyone seeing his bloody hands before he got to the sink.

"Oh, its just you," Dean sighed in relief when he saw Sam sitting on the couch.

The younger Winchester furrowed his brow, arms stretched over the back of the couch. "Where have you been," he called after Dean, who walked into the kitchen.

"Out," was all he said, shrugging out of his jacket; he set it on the kitchen counter, reaching for the soap. "You find any clue to where that damn shifter went to?"

Sam sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. "Not a single clue," he grumbled and stood, walking towards the kitchen. "Its like it just vanished."

Dean hummed and nodded, cutting odd the water and wringing his hands off on a piece of paper towel. He purses his lips slightly at his brother, furrowing his brow.

"Where's Esther," he questioned.

Sam's mouth popped into a quick O before he jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "She went to bed," he shook his head. "She cried so much when I was bandaging her," he hesitated. "But she really lost it when she went to treat herself in the bathroom."

Dean immediately hung his head, leaning back on the counter. "Must be bad," he murmured.

Sam nodded, crossing his arms over his chest. "She just...broke down. I can't imagine what she saw."

Dean only shook his head, grabbing his jacket as he passed Sam. "I'm gonna go check on her," he sighed, dropping the jacket into the sofa in the room.

Sam didn't say anything, just watched Dean jog up the stairs. He reached over for Dean's jacket, jostling the right sleeve.

There was blood around the cuff.

He pursed his lips inwards and crossed his arms over his chest. He knew Dean hadn't just been out hunting, and that was human blood. Who had he attacked? Most likely one of the men that had raped Esther.

On one hand, he didn't blame Dean for doing what he was doing. He'd like to kill the scum. But on the other hand, two wrongs don't make a right. Sam wouldn't say anything though. Dean would just get pissed and they didn't need to be arguing right now. To pile up on top of the shifter they had been chasing around the town, they now had to aid Esther until she could handle herself again; even then, Sam was going to have a hard time just leaving her.

She didn't deserve what had happened to her, no one did. And he was a bleeding heart to the core.

Sam sighed as he sunk down into the couch again,  new stress making his chest tight.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE READ:::  
> The subject of cutting starts here though very brief and non-explicit.  
> The opinion on why she cuts is not wholly mine, only partly. I was one of those people once and I have to say, I don't know why I did it.
> 
> And the song Dean is singing: God's Gonna Cut You Down by Johnny Cash

Ever wake up to someone singing?

I haven't...well, I just did.

"I thought I heard the shuffle of angel's feet," Dean sighed, tapping his boot against the floor. "He called my name and my heart stood still, she he said, 'John, go do My will!'."

My cough shook him to attention and he looked over at me, a somber look on his face. I grunted as I went to push myself up but he was there, helping me ease up into a seated position. I moved my legs to the edge of the bed, jerking back despite the pain; the look he gives me reads alarm but I shake my head.

Its me I'm being cautious with. He's seen me, he's seen what's happened down there and I just...I didn't realize how bad it was. I'm surprised he didn't run for the hills, I broke down sobbing. Of course, it is my body that I'm screaming over. This is...I'm stuck with it. Not like he's a lover. He's a helpful stranger that - in different circumstances - I would try to flirt with.

But right now...I didn't even want to think about smooching or cuddling or touching...I just wanted to be healed.

He helps me dress in silence while I feel sorry for myself, the ache between my legs thankfully dulled but I take a pain killer just in case. Dean is patient on my descent down the stairs, where I hear the news being played; I don't pay much attention to what's on the screen, but if I would have, I'd have seen the face of several missing men.

"Well hi there," Sam smiles from the kitchen table, laptop in front of him.

I can't help but smile a little, holding tight to the back of a chair as I sink into it. I let out a shuddering breath once I'm settled, feeling things I'd never paid attention to before pinch and pull in strange ways against my seat.

Uncomfortable.

"Hey Dean," Sam swipes his thumb at his nose, looking over my head to where Dean must be. "I gotta go run an errand," he scratches at the back of his neck. "You two got this?"

"Dude," Dean almost sounded offended; she heard the fridge rattle shut and was mildly surprises at how comfortable they both already were. "Yeah. You go handle your business. I need to talk to ya, but it can wait until you get back."

Sam nodded softly and smiled at me. I perked up at the attention, cocking my head and feeling a bit fuzzy as I realized the pain killers were beginning to kick in already; sweet Jesus.

"How about I make breakfast before I go," he cocks his head like mine.

I feel like such a child when my face lights up. It'd been three years since someone cooked me breakfast.

"I would like that," I murmur.

Dean chuckled as he sits to my right, giving me the softest of smiles. I feel bad for not giving him a whole hearted smile, but it doesn't seem to affect him as he just begins to talk to Sam about...something that doesn't hold my attention.

But the doorbell certainly catches my attention.

I chill instantly but Sam doesn't miss a beat, still digging in the fridge. Dean gives me a waiting look, does he expect me to give him a command? I hesitated and then jump when the doorbell rings again, swallowing as I slowly rise from my seat. Dean stands, cradling my right elbow with calloused fingers that I pull away from gently; when he presses again, I don't pull away but my stomach churns.

He helps me to the door and I open it, thankful that my wounds are covered when I see Jessica standing on my doorstep.

She has her big fucking sunglasses on and an iced coffee in her hand, eyes fixated on Dean's car in the driveway.

She jumps when I clear my throat and smiles at me, her look turning sultry when she sees Dean; I don't want to see his face for some reason.

"I tried calling you," she chirps and pushes into the house; I wince and lean into Dean. "I step on your toe," she questions when she sees my discomfort.

I shake my head but don't move, I don't even close the door. "Jess, its not really the best of times."

"I can see that," she pulls off her glasses and smirks at Dean. "Who's this handsome fellow?"

"Dean," he rumbled.

And I bobbed my head. "Jess, seriously," I gesture towards the door.

And she rolled her eyes. "Are you mad because I didn't meet up with you? Ralphie had an asthma attack, I forgot to call you. Sorry."

I shake my head, chest constricting as my head swims with agitation and panic. "Its fine," I manage. "Seriously. I'm not mad, I'm just tired. Please?"

Her eyes flicker to Dean and me, having to hear Sam cooking in the kitchen. She thought I was snubbing her when I wasn't. I wasn't mad at her, Jessica never just ditched me really, she always had a logical excuse, but I didn't want her to know what this had cost in her head - and mine.

"Fine," she didn't sound mad, just slightly peeved as she slid her glasses back on. "But I'm coming by Thursday. You gotta go to classes and I wanna talk to the hunk who does gymnastics seeing as others are taken," she looks pointedly at Dean as she passes me. "I love you."

"Love you too," I mumble, shutting the door softly behind her.

I sigh and lean against it, feeling Dean patient behind me. I didn't deserve that. Why was he sticking so close? I wanted to ask but honestly feared the answer a little; I didn't think he was a creep somehow.

"So that's who ditched you at the bar," there was a hint of accusing in there.

I shook my head and looked back at him. "I don't blame her," I actually take his hand this time, feeling it firm with every shift of my weight. "Even if she didn't have an excuse. Her little brother Ralphie is a bad asthmatic and she's basically his mother so she had to take care of him. Lets just get to the kitchen."

He grunted and left the subject alone, to which I was grateful.

I just wanted to start the process of forgetting.

 

*****************

 

Looking at myself in the mirror - every inch, every curve, every stitch and bruise - I feel sick at what I see.

I've never been vain, but I've hardly been modest. I had confidence, in my abilities and my body. I was a dancer and it all came down to what I could do with my body - and now that's ruined.

I reach up with a shaky hand, shuddering as I trace the stitching that curves from beneath my navel and over my right hip, ending as it takes a sharp turn into my rib cage; how am I alive? I drop my hand as if I've been burned and my eyes become hazy as I linger around the yellowed bruising on my knees, the scrapes under my chin. I linger on the wrapping that Sam used to cover my left breast and down under my arm against my side.

I'm a collage of white, yellow, black and red.

I let out a sob against my will and have to be sure where I sit as I sink down onto the toilet lid, burying my face in my hands.

"Why," I shudder with a sob I keep in, tears free falling. "Why me?!"

Was this my punishment? Had I done something so terrible and wrong to deserve this?

I begin to rock back and forth softly, letting out a low, hoarse cry as the damaged tissue between my thighs screams in protest; I couldn't bare to look at that today, I couldn't handle it.

I jump when there's a short rasp at the door, looking at it with fear. "Esther," its Dean. "Sam said its time to change your bandages."

I know I didn't deserve the kindness these two were giving me.

"Hold on," I rasp softly, gripping the edge of the counter tight and getting ready to push myself up.

But the door opens.

And Dean stands there, eyes holding firm to my face like I gave a shit. No, I didn't want anyone to see me in this state, but I just wanted to get these itchy things replaced and I wanted to eat.

"I said hold on," I murmur when he takes my arms in his, helping me hobble to the bed; the pain fluctuates from excruciating to dull, I can't keep up with the whiplash. "You know anything about privacy?"

I get a chuckle as he gently tugs my tank top over my head; a child dressed by its parents. "I knew you couldn't get up, you sounded miserable."

I sigh. "If you haven't noticed," I leaned against him, tugging on my shorts. "I am miserable."

"Didn't notice in the slightest," he doesn't chuckle and I don't look for one, I can almost see the smirk as he steadies me from behind.

"My whole body aches," I murmur, a dull burning in the vicinity of my shorts.

"Well, if it didn't that would kind of be weird."

I snort and grip the railing of my stairs. I'm able to walk a little better today, which is actually a bit surprising; the pain is being replaced by the growing concern of nerve damage. I don't want to get too excited for walking on my own yet, just in case something else happens to further cripple me.

"We can always do these later," Sam states as I let out a shuddering breath, sitting on the very edge of the couch with my back to him. "So long as they're done within the next couple of hours -"

"Sam," I cut him off. "Lets just get this over with, okay? Needs to be done anyway," and I want to get this over with.

I sigh as I hear the kit click open, looking up at Dean as he clears his throat; my skin prickles and the cold feeling of scissors grazing my skin, slicing through the bandages.

"I'm gonna cook," he says it like he needs confirmation, so I nod. "Then I gotta go out for a bit."

I shrug and wince, where he just walks away, whistling the tune to Andy Griffith. Sam works in minor silence, the faint hum of the TV on low volume not even close to background noise. I raise my arm when Sam nudges it, groaning low in my throat as he tries to gently pull the gauze away; cold air slaps it and I shiver.

"Your brother always disappear this much," I mumbled, hearing him bark out a cuss at my stove.

Sam chuckles, his fingers probing cream against the harsh scrape over my ribs. "Actually, yeah he kind of does. Why?"

I shrug. "Just seems a little weird to me. But you two are helping me so I figured it best not to pry into his business directly."

"Why," Sam questions, pressing fresh dressing against my side. "Afraid he'll get mad at you?"

I don't answer right away, eyes focuses on this stain at the edge of my area rug. "Kind of," I murmur. "For all I know, he could be burying bodies."

Sam chuckles but it shakes and is uncertain, which kind of concerns me. "Nah, he's probably just going out to drink or something. He never really tells me what he's doing, just that he's going out."

I hum, for both of our sales, and lower my arm when silently instructed by Sam's faintly-sticky fingers. I push myself up with grit teeth and sigh when I straighten my back, feeling slightly better with just my wrappings redone. Sam clicks the first aid kit shut and sets it on the coffee table, smiling down at me after he's stood.

"Jesus Christ on a cracker you're tall," it comes our before I can stop it.

He chuckled and I flush, feeling like a moron. "That good or bad," he teases.

I blink slowly and a small smile stretches over my face; I tuck back a strand of limp hair. "Tall guys are the best."

We both jump when we hear Dean clear his throat, find him standing in the doorway separating my kitchen from the living room. I wonder if its just me and he doesn't really look pissy.

"You two done," nope, that's pissy.

But Sam doesn't seem to notice. "I suppose."

"Well, foods almost done. Help her in here, I got a call from Garth on the problem. Can you finish?"

Sam nodded and let me lean on him; jeez, he smelt great. "Yeah, I got it. Ask him what he thinks about the equipment."

Dean bobs his head, producing a phone. "Will do."

I watch him brush past us, not missing the wink he gives me. I blink slowly, unable to really comprehend just what the Hell is happening around here.

 

********************

 

I hadn't had an 'accident' in five years.

But holding the blade seems so perfect, like it was made to fit in my hand. What's one more cut to the many already dotting my skin?

Upper right thigh, on the outside amongst the others from where I had been dropped into the garbage that night behind the run down Arby's.

The night Dean and Sam found me.

Doctor said I had bad selective impulse control, mainly for this terrible habit I had sworn to kick. I didn't like it...okay, that's a lie.

It lets me believe the lie that only I can cause my body pain, that I have...control...

"Esther?"

I yelp and scramble, the blade giving a metallic scrape against the tiles of the bathroom floor. I leave it there, seeing as trying to grab it would just cause so much more pain that this minor sting.

"Can you not open the door this time," I question, rinsing my hands of the dots of blood from bad handling of the razor.

His chuckle is warm and I hear the creak of him sitting in the chair beside my bed. "Fine."

I sigh mutely in relief, grabbing the plastic remains of the razor I had destroyed to get the razor blade. I drop them into the trash and take in a deep breath, opening the door slowly. He's sitting in the chair like I expected, looking almost like he's pleased with himself. He looks over at me and I give him an unintentionally tight-lipped smile.

"Why do you keep ending up in my room," I question, feeling a little uncomfortable when his hand brushes over my ass, his fingers on my hips as he helps me onto the bed.

"To help you into bed," I roll my eyes and tentatively stretch out on my bed. "No, just feel obligated. Sam says its a bad feature of mine."

"I don't find it bad at all," I murmur.

"Yeah, well I can see where he gets the idea," Dean sighs loud and deep. "I get stuck on certain things and don't let them go. Its gotten us in some sticky spots."

I have yet to question Dean and Sam about what they do, preferring to keep that wall up between us. If you get interested in too much of their personal selves, then you get attached and when I was on my feet, they'd be leaving.

We didn't have long to wait.

"But," I raise my eyebrows at him. "I came up here before I went to sleep to tell you that I have a surprise for you."

"Oh really..."

He nods slowly. "You may be a little skeptical at first, but I think you'll like it."

My stomach turns at the feral grin that stretches over his pretty face.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, this is where things pick up, hit the climax. I'm very proud of this chapter. Let me know what you guys think!

"And the hot one?"

"What hot one?"

"The shortest one," Jessica said around a mouthful of fries. "What's with him and his stink eye?"

I shrug slightly, unable to produce much more movement since I'm trying desperately to keep my failings under wraps. I can't hide the bandages on my thigh, tell her Mr. Costanzas dog, Butch, got too excited and jumped on me. Its believable, seeing as he's done it before, but I hide the rest of me under a sweater and keep the house pretty chill.

"He just seems to be that way," I murmur, plucking up another bite of my burger that she had bought me.

Jessica hums and nods, checking her phone while I wince without shame. I reached under the table and rub my sore knee, wishing she would leave honestly. Yes, I was happy to be able to have an unhealthy meal with my best friend again, but I wasn't really ready.

Dean and Sam had said they would be gone most of the day and I hadn't questioned it, happy to have a bit of alone time. And then Jessica pounced with promises of fast food and gossip, to which I could not deny the former but didn't care about the latter. She noticed my discomfort the moment she entered but I was still riding on the dog excuse, I couldn't mention the bandages in my side and I was still shaky about the swollen eye I was sporting; thankfully it had healed enough to just look like allergies, the eye had always been one of my biggest pains anyway.

Still, I was spotted with fading bruises and I know she didn't fully believe my dog excuse.

But it was a greyhound, great Dane mix so she didn't question it too far.

"Well he seems like a douche," I chuckle softly. "How do you even know them? I've never seen anyone like them in the city before," her turn to snort as she cradled her burger. "Whole place is a dog show."

I chuckle and push around my food. "Just some friends passing through, nothing big. We had never really talked much but...they're cool."

"That Sam is a real cutie," she winked. "You don't bag one of them, I will."

I shake my head at her while she rocks her head back and forth to some unheard tune. "They're not sticking around, Jessica," terrible excuse.

She shrugged and gave me this ridiculous look. "Like that matters. I don't have to fall in love, I just have to fuck -"

"Well, aren't you just a classy lady."

I don't think I've ever seen Jessica blush, but her cheeks were instantly red and I couldn't help but grin. She swallowed and looked back at Dean, who was blatantly smirking with a duffel over his shoulder; Sam was lying stretched out on the couch, breathing heavy with an arm draped over his face. What had they been doing?

"Its not polite to sneak up on people," Jessica snapped, returning her attention to her food.

"Its not polite to talk about people behind their backs either," he grunted and the duffel hit the floor with a dull thud. "But here we are."

All Jessica does is huff and flip her hair over her shoulder, eating her last fry before she crumples up the paper and tossed it into the brown paper bag she had brought back. I fold what remains of my sandwich up into its wrapper and go to stand, shaking my head at Dean when he moves to help me; Sam is in the process of sitting up, but I can see from where I am that he's in a great deal of pain.

Join the club, sweetie.

"Well," Jessica chirped, rising from her seat as I put my food in the fridge. "I'll be back tomorrow for classes, or do you want me to give an excuse to the instructor?"

I hesitate. "Let me think on it," is all I can produce.

She bobs her head, gives Dean a weird look as he passes her to the sink and I wave goodbye to her. I'm sure it looks a little suspicious with my stiff attitude and the strange men in my house, she probably thinks they're holding me hostage and the scratches are really from abuse.

She wouldn't be that far off, wrong men though.

The real ones were out there, prowling about or living perfectly reasonable lives. They probably had families and jobs and happy home life's.

"Well I'll give you a ring-a-ling tonight," she turns on her heel and I have a feeling she makes an inappropriate remark to Sam because he jerks up as she passes.

And I lean against the counter when I hear the door click shut. Dean worms an arm around me, pulls me against his much softer side, lets me release a shaky sigh of relief. My whole body hums in discomfort, my hips and below giving sharp pricks of agony at some of the shifts in my stance.

"I can't go to practice like this," I whisper.

"How much did she make you move," there's that aggravated tone in his voice.

"Not much," I murmur as I limp towards the living room. "But I didn't take any of my medication so it just hurts."

"You need a bandage change," Sam questions, sitting up and I see a nasty, black, bruise peaking out from under the collar of his shirt.

"I got it," Dean basically snaps at him, grabbing the kit Sam leaves on the table. "You need to rest too."

"Wouldn't have to if someone would have listened to me," Sam grumbles as he lowers himself back onto the couch, sighing as his back stretches.

"Your plan sucked," is all Dean can manage.

I chuckle softly at their tiny squabble, a tad surprised to find that Dean has as gentle a touch as Sam when it comes to applying the disinfectant; I don't know what I really expected though, I suppose I thought...fuck, I don't know what I thought.

"Gonna take Esther out tonight," my heart is instant speed, thrumming and beating against my breast bone. "You gonna be okay by yourself?"

"I'm not seven, Dean," Sam grumbles and gives him a suspicious look over my shoulder. "Where you going?"

I can feel him shrug, pressing tape against my skin with the slightest of pressure. "It wouldn't be much of a surprise if everyone knew," he grumbles.

"You think its..." I wanna come up with some excuse because, to be honest, I'm scared. "Think it's okay? I mean, shouldn't I rest?"

"We're not going for a run," he chuckled softly and Sam leans back, closes his eyes while his face is still pinched in agitation. "Just gonna take you to see something I found the other night, I think you'll like it. We'd take Sammy if he hadn't hurt himself."

"I still blame you," Sam mumbled, arm over his eyes.

I swallow thickly and then wince as Dean helps me lower my arm. "I guess I'll go then. Promise its not some creepy boy thing?"

I chuckle while he raises an eyebrow at me, which promptly shuts me up. "No, nothing creepy...and I don't even want to address the insinuation. Give me twenty and we leave, I need to check some stuff in the car."

I nod softly and remain where I sit, watching him walk around me to the front door, that duffel in hand. When the door clicks shut, I give my attention to the television, watching whatever Sam leaves it on.

Its kind of surreal, ya know? Despite the utter heartache and pain from the whole ordeal, I can't help but feel all fluttery around these two. Maybe its because of how utterly safe I feel, I mean - I have no doubt that if anything were to break in, attack me, that these two were more than capable of protecting me.

They were safe.

Even if they were strangers. If they wanted something from me - blood, sex, torture, or anything else - they could have easily over powered me by now and taken what they wanted. But they hadn't, they had been far more caring and sympathetic than anyone I had ever known and that included my parents.

My parents. God, I needed to call them, I had yet to touch that phone, had yet to give them anything other than a text message to my mom on Jessica's phone saying that I had lost mine.

I prayed they wouldn't come down from Michigan to have a surprise visit.

"You sure you feel like going out there with him?"

I blink slowly, pulling my eyes from the television to look at a concerned Sam. I cocked my head and rubbed my knee, feeling the lingering bruise ache under my fingers.

"Yeah," I paused. "You don't seem to think its a good idea."

Sam shook his head, an uncomfortable look on his face. "Its not that, I just don't..." He sighed. "Dean is safe. Dean is semi-reliable but he's been acting weird lately."

"You don't think he'd..." I swallowed nervously around the possibility I refused to vocalize.

"No," Sam shook his head fiercely then groaned. "No, no I don't think he'd do that. Dean's just a bit rough around the edges. He won't hurt you or anything -"

"So what's your concern?"

He scrunched his face up. "I don't know anymore."

That pulls a chuckle from me and I smile softly at Sam, to which he responds with his own smile. That is wiped away when the front door opens. Dean grumbled as he entered the house, duffel gone from his hand. He clapped his hands together and rubbed them vigorously, looking pointedly at me.

"You ready to go?"

I give him a smile that I can feel pops my eyes. "Eagerly."

 

******************

 

He doesn't seem to want to talk while we drive. The rumble of the Impala's engine rattles me but its also a comfort; my big brother Joshua had an Impala before, electric blue with a phase, it was probably in some antique show now.

"Can you tell me what the surprise is now," probably the third time I've asked, my gut is still doing flips.

"Still a surprise," he chuckled in a throaty way, turning languidly onto a more deserted street.

I sigh and look out the window, brow furrowing slightly at the unfamiliar buildings. I'd never been in this side of the city, it was all so foreign; I'd never seen streets so empty. There were a few people mulling about, mainly homeless men and women, two of which were busy rutting it away in an alley. I looked away then, just in time for Dean to slowly pull the Impala in the back of an old tackle shop; the lights were off and the sign read Closed.

"Dean..." My voice shook as I looked towards him, but he was already out of the car.

I jumped when the whole frame rattled at the force of him shutting the door, picking at my nails in my lap as I listened to the trunk creak open. He began digging around noisily, grumbling to himself and I stayed right where I was. I was slightly terrified that he was sick of me already and was taking me here to kill me. But that would have kind of defeated the whole purpose of everything so I stuffed the thought down and looked up when the door on my side opened up.

There was that duffel on his shoulder and he gave me a curious glance, holding out his hand. "Come on, its inside and it's starting to rain."

Now that he mentioned it, the dimming sky was now darker because of thick, bloated, black clouds rolling around above our heads. I took his hand and groaned at the dull chaffing on nearly every inch of my skin, hobbling beside him at a painfully slow pace towards the back door. I didn't question why he had a full set of keys for the place, wondering if that was why he and Sam were in town - did they own the place or something?

"Let me lock up this door again," Dean mumbled as I limped further into the store.

The whole place smelt faintly of fish and sweat, plastic from the lures laid out on the counter. I pressed against the squishy bodies, seeing the deadly hook through the translucent flesh. I looked to my left, eyes widening slight when I saw the shelf of lures and vests knocked onto the floor, products scattered across the smooth concrete of the floor; was that blood? No.

"Dean," I looked back at him. "What happened?"

His eyes flickered to the mess as he stuffed the keys into his pocket, a small shrug moving his shoulders. "Just had a little confrontation is all," cue charming smile and the show of his tender palm. "Come on."

I swallow and take his hand, moving as silently as him towards another door in the room. Opening it, he tells me to go down the stairs and give him a moment to make sure the lights are working because of some kind of short; I just do what he says and don't linger, I also don't hear the door lock on my descent.

Okay, that's definitely blood.

My hands are shaking before I'm even off the steps, my feet reluctantly carrying me around a spattering of congealed blood against the floor; I don't hear Dean following me. I follow other spatters around a short wall, the air snatched from my lungs at the fat, naked man tied to a hook in the ceiling. While I stand frozen, Dean whistles a short tune, strolling past me to a table with even more blood on it; there's so much, the smell permeates the air and makes my knees weak.

"Dean..." How many times have I said his name tonight?

He looks up, pulling a mighty hook from the duffel; its like one they used to use in old slaughter houses. He keeps his hand wrapped firmly around the handle, free hand pulling out a small hand gun and a few more items I can't focus on because there's _so much blood._

"See him," he points to the man with his hook. "Recognize him?"

I shake my head slowly and then actually look at him. While Dean waits patiently, I inch closer towards the figure that sways slightly. He's bruised and battered, bloody, I have no doubt his jaw is broken by the odd angle. His right eye is severely swollen shut and he has 'Pig' carved into his chest.

"He raped me," I whisper, terror and fear making me dizzy.

I feel Dean against my back before I notice he's moved from his table. His left hand steadies me by my elbow, right hand presenting that huge hook.

"That's right," he whispers, bent to my ear while I stare, transfixed by the stark contrast of the gleaming blade to flushed skin. "He's the one that started it all...and you're going to end it. Right here. Right now."

"Wait, what," I sputter, turning around and coming flushed against his chest. "Dean - I can't - I mean - what?"

"Sshh," he cooed lowly, turning me back around and working my fingers around the handle of that hook. "You see him," I nod slowly. "You remember what he did to you? Remember what it felt like?"

I did.

Visually, physically - he has ruined me. Him and his buddies, I am scarred in places that should not be. By body is a live wire of remembrance and pain at this very moment. He is a monster, a vermin, the very Pig carved into his chest.

So why did I hesitate?

"Dean, I can't do this," I murmur. "What does that make me? I don't -"

"You want him to live," there's a sudden edge to his voice. "Want him to do it again? Hey, wake the fuck up," Dean reaches out, delivers several sharp smacks to the man's face.

He jolts and sputters, good eye whirling around the room, arms jerking at the binds so he can try to be free. Then he sees me with the hook and he starts blubbering, rocking back and forth; I can't even find it in me to pity him. And why should I even search for an ounce of pity? He showed me no mercy, he deserves nothing.

"Calm down," Dean rumbled and I press back into him. "See her," Dean pushes me a little closer. "See her face? Remember her? You cut her up and raped her the other night...answer me you fucking pig!"

I think even a righteous man would confess his sins to Dean in that demanding, deep, hate filled tone that filled the room. My rapist looks up at me, looking truly pathetic and he takes me in; I'm uncomfortable.

"Tell her how many other people you raped, tell her now. And don't fucking lie."

"Seventeen," his voice is low and hoarse, possibly from screaming. "Seventeen women."

"And a child," Dean growls. "A little boy, his nephew. Now, does he deserve to live?"

"No," I whisper, hand shaking.

"Do you want him to suffer?"

"Yes."

"Do you want to kill him?"

"Yes," I growl but I'm crying.

Dean's lips brush against my ear, sending a newfound thrill across my skin. "Then do it," he whispers.

His hands release my arms and I do what he says, I strike out. The blade is sharp and slices easily into the side of my rapists gut, opening a long, clean wound as I jerk my arm across him. He lets out a scream of utter agony and rocks his head back and forth, sobbing and moaning, begging for his life.

"I begged you to stop," I snarled. "And you didn't, so why should I?"

I dig the blade in deeper and he produces a gurgling scream, blood coming up between his lips. I jerk my arm again, having to ignore pain and hop back a step when his skin cannot strain any further. The easy tear splits and guts spill out onto the floor, mingling with blood and vomit as I heave into the mess. He's still screaming when I come up for air, giving small jerks until his voice begins to fade and I watch him slowly die.

I finally blink when his body hangs limply from the ceiling, fully come to when the blade clatters to the floor. The dull hum echoes around the room and I listen to my heart racing in my ears, all the pain rushing into me so I collapse.

I vomit once again, hands slick in blood; it soaks into my shorts and doesn't have the decency to let me go even after Dean pulls me into his arms. He's sitting on the floor with me, holding me close while I sob and scream, clinging to him like a child. I hear him whispering faintly into my hair, but its just a hum to my own screaming, our rocking. I can't seem to bury myself deep enough into his arms and he tries to pull me into him completely.

"I got you," is what I make out and it only serves to bring me to more tears.

I clutch his shirt tight between my fingers, looking up at him through the tears. He has this look on his face that oozes patience and tenderness and I just have to.

I kiss him.

I kiss him with all I have.

I hold his face in my hands and he steadies a hand against my back, holds me close and tender to him. I can taste the blood on his lips and I know I'm getting blood on his face but he doesn't seem to care, just continues to kiss me so deeply and sweetly I can't even remember that we're sitting in blood, in gore.

When we break apart, he presses his forehead against mine, breathing slow while I try to catch my breathe. I wrap my arms around his neck, I don't want to let him go, I don't want him to let me go.

"I gotta take you home," he murmurs. "Sam will help you clean yourself up."

I nod mutely, wincing as he gathers me up and I glance at the gutted Pig, see his lifeless eye staring down at the floor. The blood is congealed around us in some places, black and clotted; a deep crimson bathes other places. And us. I'm thankful for the rain when we step out, it hides us as he sets me in the passenger seat; he is beautiful in the rain. I hug my arms around me when he shuts the door, staring down at my bloody toes that tangle in front of me.

I just killed someone.

I killed a man, the one that brutally raped me, but still a person.

And I can't find it in me to feel sorry, not one bit.


	7. Chapter 7

When we get home, Sam is about as happy as Dean says he would be. His first reaction is to jump to his feet and I can't blame his gawking with the amount of blood crusting on my skin, on Dean's; its soaked into my skin and I smell like a penny. But I do find mild annoyance in the whatever he just spilt on my area rug but obviously _now_ would be a bad time to bring that up.

"Sam," Dean snapped as he shut the door softly behind him, supporting my weary body with his arm. "Can you just calm the fuck down and clean her up? I gotta go take care of some stuff."

" _Some stuff_ ," Sam snapped. "I'm assuming whatever you killed, right?"

Dean huffed and rolled his eyes. "Don't fucking worry about it, now take her," he jostled me a little and then tensed at the moan of pain I gave. "Sorry," he murmured into my hair.

I gave a small sigh of relief when he handed me off to Sam, who eased me up into his arms; I almost complained about the blood. But Dean was opening the door and I had to say something. "Dean," my voice was hoarse, but he heard me and looked back. "Just...thank you...thank you so much."

He flashes me a smile, one that jerks at my heartstrings. "No problem sweetheart," he winks and the door clicks shut behind him.

Sam sighs when I rest my head against his chest, drifting in and out whenever he begins to carry me up to my room. The night continues to pulse back to me: the look on his face, the way it felt to hurt him in ways he hurt me; only, I lived and he didn't so its bitter sweet. On one hand, I wanted him to suffer a little more. On the other hand, I think me living is justice. I jerk when a door creaks open, knocked back into full consciousness when Sam flicks on the bathroom light. Its harsh to my eyes and I bury my face in his neck, groaning in annoyance while he chuckles and the feeling vibrates my bones.

"Sorry," he murmured and gently lowered me down to the edge of the counter. "Let me start some water and then I'll leave ya be for awhile."

I nod in a noncommittal way and grip the edge of the counter, rocking back and forth slightly as I listen to the water begin to run. I don't feel as bad as I should, but I'm drained from the act and my body is beginning to feel the strain on my actions. I don't even find myself sickened with the whole situation, I shouldn't right? He was a terrible man, I don't even want to know what happened to his buddies and I know Dean found them because I asked. He just told me not to worry about it and held my hand, comforted me...

Another jump when something brushes against my thigh and I look up at Sam, see him staring at the blood coming off from my thighs in minor horror. I reach out and take his hands, pulling them from my bloody thighs to clean palms. He tries to smile at the one I give him, but he's horrified at what he sees, which leads me to believe he's never done something like what Dean has. So, professional killers is checked off of my list of what they do. For one of them at least.

"It was him," I swallow around the scratch in my tone. "The man who led the others..." I shake my head. "Dean helped me kill him and..."

"Did you talk to him," Sam murmurs and I find the question odd, but answer him anyway.

I nod first, feel the tears threatening to clog my throat. "He raped so many more before me," okay, I'm crying now. "Sam, my God he raped his nephew! He was a monster!"

He pulls his hands from mine and wraps his arms around me, pulling me tight against his chest, just as Dean had. I don't cry with him though, I just squeeze my eyes shut tight and cling to him, reveling in his warmth and the calm thrum of his heart. He runs a gentle hand through my hair, breaths into it, kisses the top of my head and I feel all kinds of wrong. The steam in the room labors my breathing, labors his own breathing, dampens my hair; how hot is that water? I tug back a little, looking up at Sam for the hesitation I feel, saw if he shares it and he does. But there's heat in my belly despite all the pain. Its feels amazing, feels like I'm about to burst with the force of it.

So, when he kisses me, I don't pull away, I completely melt; my hands tremble against his chest, tighten and flex in the fabric of his shirt. His right hand maneuvers between my thighs, gently coaxing them apart before he situates those narrow hips between them. There's an instant jolt from the outside of my thighs up my spine, has me gasp but it doesn't quite feel like pain; its indescribable. His lips pull back from mine, I give him a confused look and then raise my arms when he tugs at the hem of my bloody shirt. I close my eyes at the pain to finally bite me, the strain of my muscles and the bruises that didn't appreciate the attention. I let out a small moan of pain when his hand cups a laceration against my ribs, heating the ruined flesh.

Then he does something I don't expect.

His lips find the wound and his tongue runs over it, making my eyes open at the alien feeling.

Its a little irritating but there's still a confusing feeling making me just watch him, transfixed by something so utterly weird. I moan a little, arching and twisting the wound against his mouth a little more. He hums against me, the gesture vibrating my bones and further irritating the wound. I tremble as his tongue brushes over the raw skin in a swirling pattern before he pulls away from me.

His tongue prods at the bruises on my skin, making me grunt but I don't pull away, my eyes fluttering closed when he found the sweet spot on my neck. I raise an arm despite the protest in my muscles and thread my fingers into his hair, letting out a small sigh and then a whimper.

How long had it been? A year? Two? Not a huge fan of sex, it hindered my judgment and focus when I danced. Now, I remembered what I was missing and it was perfect.

Until he found one of the scrapes under my jaw and I yelped. He pulls back and his face in creased in distressed, but I shake my head.

"Its okay," I murmur. "Just...just startled me," and burned a little.

He visibly swallowed, eyes flickering to the tub. "I...I'm sorry," he cleared his throat and straightened himself, almost towering over me. "I can stop, I can do whatever you want me to."

"Don't be sorry," I wanted to squeeze my thighs around him. "And don't stop....please don't."

"Let me pick you up," it was slightly questioning.

I nodded, my hands shaking as he pulled me back into his arms, carrying me back into the bedroom. The process is slow and surreal, him having to turn off the water, shut the door, me nearly begging him to turn off the lights. I don't know what to do, I don't know if this will hurt, I don't know what to say but I want this. I want him, almost more than I wanted Dean, who I'm still confused about. I want him, wanted him from the moment I woke up in that hospital bed, when he saved me. He helped me get back at the bastard who instigated my rape.

Sam is slightly intimidating with the warm amber of my beside lamp. He's shaking, I realize, when he bows over me, presses his lips against my belly.

"Sam," I whisper, arching my back where I could as he trailed up between my breasts; I squirm at the build up between my legs. "Sam please," I beg this time, moan at the heat of him pressing down on me.

His lips pull from my skin with an audible, wet sound and I tremble, looking up into his eyes. "You sure you don't want me to stop," his voice is almost warning.

"Its gonna hurt," I admit. "And-And I didn't even think I could..." I swallow down my shame and embarrassment. "For days I haven't even felt like a woman, felt like I would never get to experience any kind of pleasure again..." I feel like I'm on fire.

"Then we do this," he nods his head and ducks his lips down to mine in a small peck. "But if you want me to stop -"

"I get it," I grab his wrist, pull his hand to my breast and tremble, insisting on his lips again.

He gently kneads my breast, like a kitten does and I feel so warm. He pulls his lips from mine again, cupping the side of my face and tilting my head to get a better access to my jaw and throat. It doesn't take much to have me panting, begging for him, feeling like...well, a terrible human being. I have my rapists blood on me and a stranger making me feel all kinds of turned on. His left hand flattens in the small of my back, helping me angle my body so he can pull away the last bit of clothing I have, the only thing stopping this besides my word. My hips hurt, apex already aching but I just need --

"Calm down," Sam soothes, stroking the healing flesh of my right thigh. "Just calm down, relax..."

I nod and breath in deeply through my nose, squeaking when his lips were against the corner of mine. I don't want to be cheesy about this moment, not at all, but God I'd swear this was what having an instant connection felt like. It just feels so right watching him peel away that shirt, taking him in with suddenly greedy eyes. I lick my lips subconsciously when he kicks off his jeans, boxers, my heart beat stunted for a moment at the size of him -- though I shouldn't be surprised with how big the rest of him is. Now the fear returns, the fear he seems to have at the sight of my scarred nether region. Can he see it like I imagine he can in the dim lighting? I choose to say no when he curves over me, a man on a mission with a hand on my hip, steadying my nervousness.

There's pain to be expected, but I still gasp and grab his arm, surely breaking skin under my nails. He doesn't stop until his hips are nestled against mine, his lips pressed firmly against my forehead. The muscles in my stomach twist and cause nausea, my teeth aching in my gums as I grind and then whimper when I wiggle my hips experimentally.

"Oh Gods that hurts," I grunt and he frowns. "Move," I swallow. "Just move..."

He licks his bottom lip and does as I tell him, me trying to take control of my muscles and relax under him. Even when the pleasure comes, its sidled with pain and numbness, which makes for a very strange experience but I don't tell him to stop. There's enough for me to moan, stroke the bloody crescents I created on his bicep, my hand trembling as I stretch it down his side. Through some effort, I hook my right leg up around his lip, gasping when he slides in deeper; it doesn't go unnoticed by him either. He groans and tightens a hand in the sheets, his hips jerking in the effort to keep me comfortable.

 

_Oh sweet Jesus._

I gasp and arched against him, instantly regretting the action when pain erupts along my spine but that's an orgasm and it hits me like a ton of bricks. My body quivers and I squeeze at him while he rocks against me, not near done. He jerks a hand up, it slithers between us and I moan when he finds my clit in its little hood, stroking it gently but firmly enough to pull an immediate reaction from me.

My body already tells me I'm gonna regret not waiting, with the pings of discomfort and the numbness around my thighs but I can still feel him stroking in and out of me so I'll take what I can.

"Sam," I gasp when his hips slam once into me, feel him jerk inside of me.

"Esther," he moans and buries his face in the crook of my neck; my arms stretch across his back for a moment. "Fuck," his hips jerk once more and then he is still.

Its nearly silent in the room, only punctuated by the sound of our labored breathing. He's the first to move and it hurts, worse than it did getting him inside of me. I whimper and groan as he lowers my legs to the bed, helps me to the pillows. Yep, gonna regret that dumb shit more in the morning. I'm actually a little surprised when he's at my back, gently running a hand up my side; I stare at the sheets leading to the edge of the bed.

"I kissed Dean before I kissed you," I murmur.

I feel him shrug and his breath against the back of my neck. "Okay," he sounds a little confused.

Which fully confuses me.

 

~~~

 

He jumps when the there's a soft thump downstairs, knowing its Dean because the door had been locked when he got up to piss earlier and robbers aren't polite.

Sam blinks rapidly, trying to wake up as he peers down at Esther, sees her face pinched in the light from the bathroom but she's asleep, though in a great deal of discomfort. He rubs his eyes and scrambles for his boxers, the knife he had brought upstairs from the nightstand. He shuts the bedroom door softly behind him and eases down the stairs, seeing a shadow roaming over the couch from the kitchen, unsurprised to see the culprit.

Dean.

Dean arches an eyebrow at Sam, dropping his bloody jacket onto the kitchen table while Sam breaths a small sigh. Dean snorts and shakes his head, an amused smirk on his face.

"So, you slept with her, huh?"

"Dean --"

"Nah, I get it," he waves a hand and pulls his shirt over his head; blood smears up his forearm. "So, she's still asleep," Sam nods numbly. "Good, good she deserves some rest after the night she's had."

"What time is it?"

Dean's shrugs and begins to furiously scrub his arms, hands. "Around five, maybe? We're leaving after tomorrow, you wanna break it to her?"

Sam rubs the back of his head sheepishly. "I don't think she'll have a problem with it, really," he pauses. "She feels guilty, you shouldn't have kissed her."

"Hey," Dean flicked water from his hands. "She kissed me, I didn't kiss her."

"Well if I would have known --"

"Sammy," Dean barks, but not too loudly. "Its fine," he chuckles. "I don't mind sharin'."

"She's in a lot of pain," Sam warns him. "Don't try anything yet."

"Oh, but you get to," Dean shakes his head. "Fine, fine, so long as she wanted you to. I can wait to offer her."

Sam rubbed a hand over his face. "We're in her bed and not the spare," he says over his shoulder, staggering back towards the stairs.

Dean just hums to himself.

'Ive got another confession to make...  
I'm your fool'


	8. Chapter 8

Despite a boring life so far, I've woken up in some pretty strange situations. Like the time I woke up on my brothers weight bench with Q-tips stuck to my eyebrows with honey and a snow globe taped to my stomach. Or maybe when I woke up in my aunts yard wrapped in so much toilet paper it took a half hour to cut me out. Both times were results of the last two times I drank but I know for a fact I didn't drink last night.

So, how I woke up in a mostly-naked sandwich between the brothers was beyond me.

Sam was where I left him, nestled against my back and still very naked, a thick arm encircling my waist. Dean had a leg pressed between my thighs, his head resting oddly between my breasts; oddly in that the sensation was instantly arousing, but my bruises and the small abrasions were irritated. I dreaded moving from this position, honestly, because right now I didn't feel anything but a strange need to wake Dean up and...

I jerked when his eyes snapped open, his chin tilting up, eyes staring into mine. A grin broke out on his face and he pushed up gently, pressing his lips against mine. It wasn't as passionate as our kiss in the basement, but I figured it was the absence of blood and the thrill of killing that fat pig. I gasped a little at the feel of his chest against mine, stimulating my breasts in a strange way.

"So ya let my lil brother get in there first," his lips brushed down my jaw, making my breath hitch.

"Just happened," I murmured, groaning when I lifted an arm to tangle my fingers in his hair. "Everything hurts," I whimpered.

"Done too much," his lips caressed the slope of my throat. "Should've gotten cleaned up and slept but oh no..."

"Shut up Dean," I jumped at the sound of Sam's voice behind me, a new tremor going through me as his lips press against my spine. "Leave her alone."

"Says the naked baby brother," Dean chuckled and peered over me to Sam. "You gonna clean her up, or want me to do it."

"Whatever she wants."

What the Hell was going on here?

I whimper when Dean extracts himself from me, followed by Sam. As I feared, everything ached and burned, felt incredibly sticky in places. A chill settled on my skin when I felt cold air slap my thighs, my eyes lingering on the embarrassing spatter of blood staining Dean's thigh. He had lifted my sheets and a heavy sigh came from between his lips as he examined what I couldn't. His tongue struck out against his bottom lip and, I don't know why, but I really wanted to taste that tongue.

"I gotta move ya onto your back, sweetheart," his words were gentle, patient and my belly uncoiled with the warmth it gave me. "That okay?"

I nodded meekly. "It hurts," I whisper, like he didn't already know that.

He nodded solemnly as he tucked the blankets back; I didn't miss the apologetic look Sam sent towards whatever it was I still couldn't fucking see. Dean's arms wrapped around me like a safety netting, but I still felt every small prick of pain, every annoying abrasion coming to life at even the short rotation. When he pulled away, I had to grind my teeth and tighten my fingers in the sheets to keep from screaming. I opened my eyes again without even realizing they had been closed and froze despite my muscles protests when I felt Dean grabbing my ankles.

"What are you doing," I sputtered in a rush, craning my neck to look down at him.

He was at my feet, a stern look on his face; Sam came back into the room with towels and a bowl of water, medical supplies. Was it really that bad? I'm guessing we can't go to the hospital, questions will start...

"I need ta see what's bleeding," Dean explained in a simple tone. "And I gotta actually look at it to know so," he tapped the insides of my ankles. "Spread em."

A tremor ran through me but, with his help, I managed to pry my own thighs apart. Maybe it was the slight numbing sensation from continuous poking and prodding, but I couldn't really feel much of anything when I spread my legs aside those little pinches and pulls. And I could live with that if it could block out my shame from having eyes-on from Dean.

"Well shit," he mumbled, a lot closer than I thought judging by the way his breath wafted over my wet sex; and that wasn't slick from arousal. "Nothing the doctors did opened...just looks like some smaller cuts opened," he gave Sam a scolding look. "You really thought this was a good idea?"

Sam took defense and, if I weren't trying to determine whether I was on fire or not, I would have laughed at how cute he looked.

"She didn't say no," was his defense.

Dean sighed. "Didn't mean it was okay," his eyes flickered between the two of us. "Okay, just...you go take a shower, I'll clean her up," when Sam hesitated, Dean waved an insistent hand at him. "I'm not gonna run off with her - go."

Sam gave him what I could only describe as a bitch face and he turned around, shutting the bathroom door behind him softly. Dean sighed and I did internally, eyes flickering up to him as he approached the bedside table. The way he moved, prepped, made me wonder how many times he's had to do this before, clean a wound I mean. Certainly not - I shook my head, which earned me a raised eyebrow from Dean, to which I shook my head again at. He shrugged a little and took the now wet rag from the bowl and a dry one, moving back to his place at the foot of the bed. I took a breath and bit my lip, anticipation making me shaky while I listened to Dean hum. I refused to look down, watch him, because I had to look like a murder scene down there; the self made cut on my thigh ached.

"Calm down," his voice made me jump.

"Kind of hard to do that," I murmured, a squeak flying from my lips when I felt the rag press gently against tender skin.

"Shouldn've slept with Sam until you were more healed than this," Dean tsked, the rag running up the inside of my thigh a little.

I trembled and closed my eyes, feeling the tug of fabric against me. "Y-You...you were okay with it," I murmured, half confused and half...aroused.

That was a purposeful swipe against my tender clit, but I manage to hold completely still while my eyes flew open. "Yeah, so," he hummed as he stood, walking back to the bowl of water; the rag was completely red. "Not like I said thou shalt not fuck my baby brother. You wanted to, you wanted to. I don't have a problem sharing."

I blinked a few times, getting dizzy with the motion. "You what," I squeaked out.

He looks over at me as he turns, a placid look on his face before he settles between my legs again; this time I look down. "Sharing," he winked and hummed again, gently pressing the wet rag...slightly into me; I couldn't wait to be able to take a shower alone. "Never said I wasn't gonna try to seduce you. I don't just kiss chics in a crime scene and leave it at that," he was chuckling.

And I was convinced I was dead. "D-Don't I get a say in this?"

He looked up, tugging my leg to the side until I winced, then he continued his cleaning. "Well, yeah, obviously. But I know you didn't mind waking up the way ya did this morning."

The look he gave me made me blush and I had to look away, my cheeks on fire. He chuckled again and began to softly sing something I couldn't hear, I was trying to focus on something else, anything other than him. No, I didn't exactly hate the way I woke up, but would I really move from Sam to Dean? Sam obviously didn't seem fazed by the bed situation, which doesn't really help my mind right now. I'm trying to make a decision and I want to tell them to just crawl back in bed with me, coddle me, make me feel...safe. So safe, so warm and untouched by everything.

What was wrong with me?

"I didn't," I murmured. "But doesn't make me feel any better about this...I mean, I kissed you and then came back here to sleep with your brother."

"Well don't beat around the bush," Dean chuckled, putting the rag in the water bowl and then he turned to me.

I stopped breathing for a minute, watching his hands come down on either side of me. I sunk back into the mattress a little more, releasing a small - involuntary, might I add - groan when his lips found mine. Still soft, still insistent, one hand running gently up my side with twitching fingertips. I winced when he found the wound Sam had assaulted last night, finding a cool pooling of arousal in my stomach at the memory. His tongue struck out against my top lip and I jerked beneath him, wanting to touch him, hold him, but he pulled away. My lids fluttered open, feeling suddenly sheepish when I saw those bright green eyes on me.

"I told you I don't mind sharing," he whispered in a husky way. "But I never said you were his, alright? You can do what you want with him...but I want you too."

I rocked my jaw a little, stuck between the aggressive claiming and the understanding that I was also attracted to his brother. Dean first, my mind screamed, he was first for me, he was the one I wanted and the one that was so sweet to me when he didn't have to be. Sam was sweet, but nothing I felt for him compared to what I wanted to feel from Dean.

"Okay," I whispered, nodding softly. "Okay, okay...kiss me again."

He chuckled and did what I told him to, his thumb brushing on the side of my breast, making me whimper into his mouth. It was obvious he wouldn't do anything more, what with the way he refrained from touching me and the scolding he gave Sam. I wanted him though, I wanted him now, but I understood. I didn't want to, but I did, and when I wiggled my hips a little I gasped into his mouth. When he pulled away, I whimpered in pain and my hands massaged my hip bones tenderly, hurt eyes up to him.

"You're not allowed to fool around until your healed," he pressed his lips under my jaw, blatantly teasing me. "And when that time comes...you and I? We're not leaving the bed for awhile."

He grinned lopsidedly at me and I actually giggled, my cheeks heating up. "Please don't make me feel like I'm gonna combust when I'm naked and bloody," I coughed a little. "It makes me more self conscious than even mentioning this is."

"Oh really now," he chuckled. "Whose to say I don't like it?"

My stomach churned. "Huh," smooth, Esther, real smooth.

He winked but didn't answer me, which put a funny taste in my mouth. I looked up at the sound of the bathroom door opening, my throat clenching at the sight of him half naked and very wet. Who knew I was such a pervert, I sure didn't, but he had those lines that made smart girls stupid. Jessica had said the explanation was simple: They pointed to his dick. Gotta love the crass explanation, but I wasn't thinking of that part of his anatomy at the moment, I was thinking of his eyes. They were staring at me as Dean tended to me, softly singing as he did so, oblivious to how guilty his brother looked, felt.

I didn't say anything, didn't see the need really. Would anything I say affect him at all? Probably not, he seemed like the type that still blamed themselves even though the problem most definitely was not their fault. I was like that on occasion, but not like that. We both knew what would happen and it hurt, but I didn't stop him and I just -

"Just stay in bed today," Dean snapped me out of my thoughts and I looked away from Sam, which prompted him to walk towards the bedroom door. "I'll come back up to feed you and stuff but Sammy and I got some packing to do."

My eyes opened wide. "Y-You're leaving," my voice was squeaky, panicking.

Sam and Dean exchanged a glance before Sam shrugged and left the room. Dean sighed and shut the door behind his brother, coming to sit on the edge of the bed while my heart hammered away in my chest. If I was sitting up, I'm sure my head would be spinning; if I was any sort of sane, I would be asking myself why I was freaking out already.

"Baby girl," I trembled. "We do have a sort of job and we're a little behind...but here's the deal, we were wondering if you wanted to come along."

I blinked rapidly a few times. "What," I was whispering now.

"You wanna tag along with me and Sammy," he cocked his head. "You don't have to...though, I was hoping you would," he chuckled. "I still have to show you how much better in bed I am than my brother."

I almost rolled my eyes, but I'm actually thinking about this. I feel sick considering staying here, alone, without them. But I can't just pull everything up here and leave with these two strangers - well, they weren't exactly strangers anymore, all things considered - can I?

"Why," I murmured.

Dean doesn't say anything right away. "Well," he starts. "We kind of like ya, you know," I smiled. "But if you stay, you stay. I'm hoping you say yes."

I can't stop smiling at him and I don't really know why, but maybe its the unwarranted butterflies making me a little giggly. I haven't felt like this in a long time and its really confusing, but I'm not saying I don't like it.

"I...I gotta say goodbye -"

Dean shook his head, effectively cutting me off. "You can't say goodbye," my smile drooped. "I'll explain why...but I don't want to leave you with a too busy head while we load up Baby."

I swallowed thickly but nodded, blinking slowly as I watched him stand. He grabbed his jeans and put those on, holding his flannel in one firm hand. The look he was giving me said he was sorry, I didn't feel I had the patience to wait for his explanation. I couldn't say goodbye to anyone? What about my parents? I had to call them, maybe I could get that out of Sam.

"Calm down," he muttered, shaking me back into awareness. "I'll come back up in a minute to move you to the couch, how does that sound?"

I blinked once this time. "That...thank you," I smiled a little.

He gave me a reflection of my smile and started towards the door. "Its not so bad, Esther," he said with the door half open. "Just disappearing...if you still want to. Its the best way not to hurt the ones you love."

"Its cold," I whispered.

He shrugged. "Its the life," he mumbled, shutting the door softly behind him


	9. Chapter 9

"You really expect her to just pull up her roots and come with us?"

Dean paused and looked up from the Impala's trunk, arching an eyebrow at Sam. They had been packing up the car after a thorough re-stocking and the affair had been taking roughly three hours, yet this was the first time Sam had mentioned Esther. He expected a lot more talking from his little brother, boy always liked to give him an earful about the girls.

"Well," Dean shrugged. "Thanks to your little stunt with her vagina," Sam's cheeks heated and Dean chuckled. "She's pretty screwed up...but I don't have a doubt she'll come with us."

Sam ran a hand hard over his face and Dean whistled as he flicked his keys back and forth in his palm. "You've been singing to her," that cut Dean's whistle off in a wet choking noise. "Do you...she's not just another one is she? You actually like Esther?"

Dean looked over at Sam, his jaw flexing as he stared his little brother down. But Sam was only curious, a little shocked but still - Dean didn't keep girls, but he seemed Hell bent on having this girl come with them. Sam had to admit, he didn't mind the idea of Esther coming along with them; he genuinely liked the girl. Esther was brutalized and she was still willing to go along with their insanity. He'd heard her heart humming in her chest when she had woken up to the sight and feel of the two brothers wrapped around her.

Dean was right, she didn't want to leave them.

"So what," Dean snorted and pocketed the keys to the Impala, approaching the dark wood of the front door. "Maybe I do, what's it to ya?"

"Uh, maybe the fact that you said you don't mind sharing but -"

"But nothing, Sammy," Dean spun back around on his heel, a little surprised to see Sam having gotten so close to him. "Look, she obviously doesn't know which one of us she wants and if she wants to test the waters for awhile while she makes the decision, I'm not gonna hold her all to myself. 'm gonna let her choose on her own terms, but I also won't let you just have her for awhile," Dean paused, tilting his head towards the door. "We share her...until she says otherwise."

Sam let his chest swell and expand with an unreleased sigh and then nodded slowly. "Fine," he murmured. "But this all depends if she leaves with us or not. She could always choose to stay."

Dean nodded as he turned."True, true," he opened the door, a lopsided smile coming to his face. "But I think she's comin' with us."

Both of them jumped when they heard a crash inside, Dean immediately charging into the house. Sam almost had the door slammed in his face, which brought minor annoyance when he heard Dean scolding Esther gently. When he made it to the living room, he saw Dean in the middle of helping Esther up from the floor; she looked so fragile. There was a glass on the floor, right in the center of the room and she had blood coming from her right hand.

"I-I was just getting up to put up the glass and -"

"Sweetheart," Dean pet her hair back, lowering her down to the edge of the couch. "Its okay, but didn't I tell you to just sit your pretty ass down on this couch?"

Esther huffed and then deflated, leaning against Dean's side when he sat beside her. "Yeah," she mumbled before she noticed Sam, who she gave a bright smile to. "H-Hey, I didn't...see you."

Sam gave her a small smile, watching Dean from the edge of his vision; his demeanor didn't change in the slightest with the shift of attention. "You could have really hurt yourself," Sam murmured. "You should have just left it on the table."

Esther frowned and looked down at her bloody hand, her free hand coming up to pick at the glass still in there. "You two have done enough...I figured I could at least put a glass up...guess not."

Dean chuckled softly, a sound that Esther looked up to eagerly. "Well, we need to get that patched up -"

"No, no," Esther swallowed thickly. "Just help me to the sink and I'll rinse it off...just a couple of scratches, no big deal."

"I got go get the kit though," Sam pushes off the doorframe he was leaning against. "Need to make sure we have enough supplies to last until our next stop."

Dean nodded as he helped Esther to her feet, overly enjoying the way she clung to him. He kept a firm arm around her waist, helping her around the shards of glass and into the free kitchen. She winced at the way her cuts stung under the water but felt relief when it was all gone. The look she gave him was sheepish when he insisted on wrapping a towel around her hand.

"You thought about the offer," Dean murmured, wiping away the water from her wrist.

Esther hesitated and nodded, looking to the living room where Sam had plopped down on the couch and was going through the first aid kit. She looked back up at Dean and brushed off of him a little, limping towards the kitchen table and wincing as she did so. It was an arduous task of sinking down into that chair, but she managed on her own and Dean was almost proud as he sat across from her.

"I..." Esther swallowed and then choked a little. "Oh shit, I thought this would be easier," at the odd look on his face, she shook her head. "If I decide to come with you...what happens?"

She didn't even need to explain. "We wipe you," Dean murmured. "We erase you from the system and we have a friend that can..." he cleared his throat and adjusted his position in his seat. "Okay, so here's the thing - we have some explaining to do and I'm gonna need you to be cool about this, okay?"

Esther got a slightly bewildered look on her face. "Uh...uh, okay," she swallowed thickly and looked up when's Sam made himself known.

"You really want to tell her it all right now," Sam questioned, hands tucked deep into his pockets.

"I think she can handle it," Esther jumped and looked back to Dean, who looked almost sad.

"Uh..."

~~~

Its been nearly seven hours since we left my house and I still can't fully comprehend what they told me.

Monster...demons...angels...all real?

Dean had tried to be gentle, Sam didn't really know how to start but they had finally spilled everything to me. I don't really know if I believe them all the way, but it almost seems like too big of an explanation to be a lie.

I have to stifle a sigh as I lean my forehead against the window of the Impala, my legs curling up under me. I don't want to draw any more of Dean and Sam's attention, they had just been a little over flustered about me and...that was enough. I needed a minute to adjust with the transition I just made. Of course, I can't really say I regret it yet, so far I'm okay with what I chose to do but...I didn't get to say goodbye to anyone. I didn't get to tell Jessica I was leaving, I didn't even get to say goodbye to my parents and Dean had made it very clear that we didn't get to make a side trip to tell them I would be running away and just...disappearing.

"Sweetheart, you might fuckin pop if ya keep it up."

I stiffened a little and looked up, catching Dean's eyes in the rear view mirror. "Sorry," I murmured and then looked over at Sam, who had decided to sit in the back with me. "He looks uncomfortable," I murmured.

"He insisted," Dean sighed as the leather creaked beneath him, his hand adjusting on the steering wheel.

I shrugged a little and leaned over to Sam, my hand slightly shaking as I ran a hand through his hair; my eyes flickered to the rear view, but Dean was focused on the road. Sam stirred slowly, his shoulders rising high before he looked over at me through one eye. I didn't even get to say anything because he suddenly leaned into me, big arms wrapping around my middle as he buried his face into, well, basically my crotch. I froze as I was presses against the door, my lips curling inwards as Sam inhaled deeply before relaxing again. I hesitated but raised a hand and stretched it over Sam's side, resting it there as I stared down at the side of his face.

"I did the right thing," I whispered and cocked my head a little.

"No doubt," Dean hummed and strummed his fingers, pressing gently on the brakes as we neared a stop sign.

"You really don't mind sharing me," I questioned, still keeping my eyes down.

"Nope," I looked up then, fingers stroking through Sam's hair. "If you choose one of us over the other...I'll be pissed, know that, but I have patience, babe."

I furrowed my brow. "Why...why do you need patience."

Dean chuckled as he eased the car around a curve. "Everyone has to make a choice in the end," he started. "There's me, Sam and then you can choose to keep the both of us - but I'm only good at sharing for a little while. I have patience, but only so much sweetheart."

I swallowed thickly, nodding but he wasn't looking at me. "I..." My tongue wiped over my lip. "I get it," I wasn't really all set on the both of them but I -

"Don't worry about it until you get all healed up," he winked in the mirror. "And then I'll show you the right path."

A small giggle bubbled up from my chest when I watches Dean flick his tongue at me, my cheeks heating up enough for me to ask for the air conditioner. I brushed my hair back and let my head rest on the window again, stroking my hand through Sam's hair. He hummed and he sleepily nuzzled into my midriff, irritating the little bit of wounds I still had in that area but also causing this tingly feeling inside of me.

"I don't know what to do," I whispered.

"Don't worry about right now," Dean said in an insistent tone. "Got all the time in the world, baby girl."

"I know," I murmured and pressed my forehead tightly against the glass. "I know..."

~~~

"Already miss that fucking bed," Dean grumbled as he flopped out onto the twin bed closest to the door.

"It smells like old socks and piss in here," I mumbled as Sam eases me down onto the bed beside Dean. "How long are we gonna stay here?"

Sam shut the bathroom door behind him and Dean rolled over to look at me. "Just a few days, sugar," he inched forward and pressed his lips into the hip bone exposed by my rising shirt. "Then we're headed up to Kansas," he sat up and wiggled around to have our hips pressed against each other.

"What's in Kansas," I murmured.

"Bunker," Dean hummed. "Our home, think you'll like the place."

I hesitated but looked up at Dean, running my tongue over my bottom lip. "Kiss me please," I murmured.

He arched an eyebrow at me, slowly reaching up to cup the side of my face and inch me closer to his lips. I exhaled sharply when our lips connected, unable to really comprehend why I was kissing him right now. Maybe I needed to see something? Eh, no maybe I just wanted to get into his pants because Sam had just been basically fondling me the whole ride here. His hot breath and the mumbling in his sleep, vibrations making me...

"Not right now, guys," Dean pulled back and I jumped when Sam came into the room, looking annoyed.

"No shit," Dean pushed himself up from the edge of the bed, leaving me to watch him stretch and groan. "Wouldn't be messin' around in front of you anyway, still got a minute before I wanna dive in there."

My cheeks burned at the implication but there was that jolt again, the one sent straight into the apex of my thighs. I peered over at Sam, who was staring at me from under his hair, seated on the other twin bed. I bit down on the inside of my cheek and then looked up at Dean, who was in the process of shutting the door to the bathroom.

"Things can't get much stranger," I picked up my chin a little higher. "Can they?"

At that, Sam's stoic facade cracked and he chuckled. "Oh you just don't know."

~~~

He finds her outside later that night, leaning against the Impala's bumper and staring up at the stars. She has his jacket wrapped around her, which explains why he couldn't find it when he got up to look for her.

"Give me my jacket back," Dean grumbled.

Esther jumped and looked back at him, looking down at his jacket before she shrugged it off and held it out to him. Dean took the baggy coat and shoved his arms into it, grabbing Esther gently by the waist and maneuvering behind her. She tensed and sighed as she leaned back into his chest, closing her eyes at the feel of his arms wrapping around her, the coat following.

"You weren't in bed," he murmured against the shell of her ear, sending numbing tingles through her. "Don't do that...had too many people just disappear on me."

"Not goin' anywhere, Dean," Esther murmured as she let her head roll to the side, breathing loudly out of her nose as his lips pressed tenderly to her throat. "Just...had to clear my head a little," she trembled. "Jesus Christ you're good at that," he could feel her skin heating beneath his lips.

Dean chuckled and his tongue struck out at the patch of skin beneath her ear. "Wait until you're all healed up," he murmured, arms gently tightening around her. "Gonna show you just how good I am..."

Esther hummed as she enjoyed his attention, her cold fingers finding his hands and holding tight to them. He kneaded her skin softly, lips making her tingle and quiver. There was no hesitance, it was all fluid and just right up until the moment he had her pinned against the back of the car, his hands itching between her thighs.

"Dean n-no," she whimpered, pain shooting from the attention her tender sex did not appreciate.

He jumped and his hooded eyes moved up to hers, his swallow audible before he nodded. "Sorry," his voice was thick with need and then embarrassment. "Sorry just...got ahead of myself."

Esther reached up and grasped his hand that pulled from her, holding it tight in her own before she cocked her head and pressed her lips against his. It was a chaste little kiss, over too soon when his lips tried to follow hers and he almost growled at the brief contact.

"I want you too," she admitted, her tongue running over her lips as she stared down at their hands. "But not until I'm healed and...it can't come soon enough," her voice was small.

Dean nodded softly, reaching around with his free hand to splay it against the small of her back. "I know, I know baby girl," he chuckled as he pulled her hips against his, delighted to see the way she trembled. "I'm just a little edgy knowing my baby brother got in there before I did..."

"It just happened," she defended and all she received was yet another amused chuckle. "You weren't lying were you," he arched an eyebrow. "About...what you and Sam do...the monsters and stuff? None of its a lie right?"

Dean shook his head. "Unfortunately no, its not a lie," he sighed and looked up at the sky. "Been a Hell of a ride with the job too...but you'll find out for yourself soon enough," he looked down at her. "I'm gonna train ya."

Her eyebrows shot into her hair. "What? To Hunt?"

Dean nodded, shifting his weight. "Gotta know how to defend yourself against more than assholes now," he sighed. "But I'll make sure you don't get too wrapped up in the heavy shit, okay? But I think you're gonna do just fine in what I have for you."

Esther curled her lips inwards. "This is almost too much," she murmured.

Dean snorted and lifted her back to her feet, holding her hip so she could steady herself. "You'll get used to it," Dean hummed as they started walking back towards the motel room. "We all do eventually. Its not so bad, worst part is having to be a nobody, but that also has its perks."

"I can see both sides clearly, Dean," she tugged him to a stop outside the door. "I just...I don't want to be someone who screws up your whole gig you got going on here...I don't want to be that burden."

At that, she received an instant laugh, his whole body shaking with the effort as he tossed his head back. Esther blinked slowly as Dean wiped at the corners of his eyes, his head shaking as he tried to focus on her.

"That's what you're worried about," Dean questioned. "Oh babe, we're gonna have to work on that self esteem. I suggest we start with a few orgasms, if you're so inclined."


	10. Chapter 10

"Bitch, I need to get in the bathroom."

"Jerk, you need to have some patience."

I can't even explain how entertaining this is, but I also had to pee so I was on Dean's side with how long Sam was taking.

Dean rasped his knuckles on the door again, bowing his head slightly. "Dude, you have all the time in the world to jerk off, we're in a hu -"

Dean stumbled back as the door swung open, Sam scowling on the other side with a towel around his waist. His cheeks were slightly tinted pink, which made my cheeks flush because I knew that withering bulge peeking at me from his towel was my fault.

I'd bunked with Sam when Dean got up to make calls and get breakfast this morning and apparently got a little frisky with my hips in my sleep; he tried to play it off and ignore it but I could feel that thing stabbing at my ass.

I'm not stupid.

And now it was definitely clear.

"I hate you," Sam snapped and Dean chuckled as he shut the bathroom door. Sam sighed and looked over at me, that sheepish look I was already familiar with on his face. "Uh...didn't you need to use the bathroom too?"

I nodded softly, looking away when he abruptly dropped his towel; it was inside of me, why should I be embarrassed? I crossed my legs as I waited patiently at the foot of the bed, breathing a heavy sigh of relief when the bathroom door opened again. Dean winked as I passed, which gave me an undeniable need to roll my eyes.

I locked the door tightly behind me, staring at the grimy handle with as much disdain as I could muster towards an inanimate object before I sighed and pushed my hair back from my face. I sank down softly onto the toilet seat after I had flushed it, breathing in deeply - big mistake when mt senses were assaulted by the scent of sulfur coming from the city water staining everything around me and the false aroma of artificial flowers from the spray can above my head.

The morning had been hard - for more than one reason, perverted reasons excluded - for some reason, I just didn't really understand why I was having such a hard time grasping this. Dean had said nothing would go wrong, everything would work out perfectly fine by the time we reached the bunker - but what would work out, exactly? He wouldn't answer me, just said I had nothing to worry about anymore.

I ran my fingers gingerly over the bruises on my thighs, so close to gone it was unreal; soon, my body would only have scars, not bright reminders of what had happened. I still ached, but I was able to walk just fine this morning, though my thigh did burn when I had stretched when I woke up, so there's that. The cuts and abrasions on my chest and neck still needed tending too, but Sam said I wouldn't have to worry about wrapping them much longer.

I sighed and looked around, at my gross, piss-yellow surroundings and the leaky showerhead - I had avoided motels for a reason. Dean was ripping and raring to go, I wanted to crawl back into bed and Sam shared my musings, but they fell on the drivers deaf ears.

"Did ya fall in?"

I jumped and glared at the door, the extra rasp of knuckles; I could hear Sam grumbling at Dean, something about 'thanks for the help' and he faded away with the sound of rustling bags. I sighed and pushed myself to my feet, straightening out my shirt and opening the door.

Dean was standing on the other side, giving me a cheeky smile and I shook my head, but smiled. "A bit clingy, aren't you," I questioned as I passed him.

My breath hitched when he caught my upper arm with his hand. I looked back and caught his lips, my insides twisting like they had each time he kissed me. It only made my brain further throw itself into the frenzy, made it want to choose where I was still undecided. Sam turned me to mush, Dean gave me questionable and igniting thoughts.

When he pulled back, lips brushing against mine, eyes closed and utterly beautiful, I went nearly brain dead.

"You need to learn how to control that ass of yours when you sleep," his eyes peeked between tight slits; I trembled when the fingers of his free hand brushed over the small of my back. "Seems its starting a track record of giving painful hard ons."

The embarrassed giggle that erupted from between my lips was inhuman and nearly hysterical, but Dean only seemed amused. His fingers let go of my skin, his body heat still wrapped around me after her had passed and headed for the door. I licked my lips slowly, tasting him still on them and it only made my tummy clench tighter, if that were possible.

"Esther."

And cue a loud, panicked scream and me flailing like crazy, which only got me on the floor. I heard the creak of the Impala and the slap of work boots but all I could focus on was the man who had suddenly appeared. He was tall, not as Tall as Dean or Sam, but all and he wore a dusty trench coat over a dark blue suit. His hair was a bit wild and he had scruff along his jaw, bright blue eyes that seemed to know me but I had never met

* * *

this man before. And yet, there was an overwhelming sense of familiarity, like we really did know each other and he hadn't just randomly popped into a room that had just been empty.

My chest heaved and ached, my butt throbbing from where I had thrown myself down. My back was pressed firm against the wall just under the window; the man looked very confused, like I was over reacting. I looked up when shadows were cast over me and let out a loud sob as tears suddenly sprang into my eyes. I scrambled back to my feet and into Dean's arms, clutching at his coat and holding myself as tight to him as possible. His arms wrapped tightly around me and he gave an annoyed sigh; I felt one of Sam's big hands rub tenderly at my shoulder.

"Cas," Dean snapped and my fingers tightened in his shirt; they knew him?! "Ya can't just do that to her, I said to wait at the Bunker."

"I saw no problem in meeting you halfway," the mans voice was thick and scratchy, strange when it hit your ears. "I did not mean to frighten her though, I thought you told her about everything?"

"I did," Dean signed. "But that doesn't mean you wouldn't scare the crap out of her by just poppin' in like that."

Sam's hand slipped off of my shoulder and I sniffled, craning my head back to look at the man, but I refused to extricate myself from Dean. "Wh-Who are you," it sounded accusing...it kind of was.

"I am Castiel," he said, as though he were trying to coax a feral cat from a garbage can. "I am an angel of the Lord."

"Oh," I said quietly. "That uh...okay."

And then my knees went weak, my head swimming as I collapsed into Dean's arms for real. I heard him spit out a curse as he scrambled to gather me up before I slipped through his fingers; a slimy fish, I even felt like that on the inside.

Yeah...pass out in front of an angel...good start.

~~~

I never did like sleeping in cars, no matter how comfortable I could get there just never seemed to be a right way to actually...sleep.

But, right now, I was pretty damn comfortable. Was someone stroking my hair? Ah yeah...yeah someone is most definitely stroking my hair. Not even the Impala's growling and barking could penetrate the calm I felt with those fingers stroking back through my hair. Big hands...Sam, had to be Sam...honestly because I couldn't see Dean letting Sam drive to pet me.

But a girl can dream.

Until the stroker spoke.

"Hey...ya up," he was a skilled, monster killing machine, of course he could easily sense the shift in my breathing.

I blinked a couple of time, annoyed by the lack of sun outside the windows, but also relieved to see Dean peeking over the front see. The car jerked as he passed under a light and I wiggled in my spot, having the intense urge to stretch and groan but cab space was very, very limited.

I grumbled as I managed to get onto my back, feeling my cheeks heating as I peered up at Sam's smiling face. "I uh..." I swallowed thickly. "How long was I -"

"Couple hours," Dean answered and I slid into Sam and up as he took a turn. "Sorry bout Cas, he has bad timing."

"An angel," I spat and my eyes bugged for a moment. "H-He said he was an angel!"

A brief pause. "Yeah," Dean scrubbed a hand over his face. "Yeah, Cas is an angel. Probably should have mentioned everything about him..."

"We got the time," Sam rumbled and I nodded softly, not even bothered by the rough scratch of his jeans against the back of my neck. "Can ya lift up your shirt? You were bleeding a little and Cas was gone before he could heal ya."

"Wonder what that was all about," Dean mumbled.

My cheeks were hot as Sam pushed my shirt up when I didn't, exposing my wrapped breasts but I could now feel the cold and stiffness against my side, pretty sure it was blood even without seeing Sam's disappointed face. I jumped when his fingertips rubbed over the seam, tugging at it a little to check the skin underneath.

"Just popped open a bit of this stitching here," he murmured and readjusted the bandage while I held in that sigh of relief. "But it doesn't need to be patched up again, looks like you just tugged the scab off."

"I didn't think I would have to go through that many bandages," I murmured and winced. "I uh...how much further until our next stop?"

"Bunkers only twenty minutes away," Dean hummed and strummed his fingers around the steering wheel. "Why? Gettin cramped?"

"No," I murmured, feeling a weird little melancholy in my chest at what I wanted to do. "Just uh...just wanted to know," I paused. "Uh...how did you meet Cas," small talk it is.

"He raised Dean from perdition," Sam answered when Dean just tightened a hand around the steering wheel.

I furrowed my brow slightly. "Hell," it came out as a murmur.

Sam nodded, face slightly from but there was also a hint of 'thats nothing' on his features. "Yeah, Hell," he shrugged. "We've both been there, one way or another. I suppose I can catch you up on the road so far."

"But after we get settled in," Dean piped up, turning onto a mainly deserted road with only darkness ahead of us. "First we gotta get the shit out of the car and find her a room."

"The one by mine is still cleared out," Sam readjusted his position as I sat up.

"We'll figure it out," Dean murmured as he cut the engine. "I'll move Baby later, lets get inside. Its starting to get cold."

Sam and I shared a grumble of agreement when he opened the door, flooding the car with a chill, only to be assaulted by the same chill once we were both outside. Sam opened his coat and I huddled against him, walking rather easily towards the door Dean was leading us to. After some fumbling in the dark, he managed to get a key into a lock and I heard the faint sound of gears grinding before the door eased itself open.

"Finally," Dean groaned as lights began to flicker on through the bunker. "So glad to be back."

I untangled myself from Sam, he didn't seem to mind and even brushed past me for some unknown reason while Dean remained to lock the door back.

The place looked like it needed to be a part of a museum, with the books and the artifacts pinned or on display in cases. My mind was reeling with the possibilities on what to do, but right now I was really more concerned about a shower; I hadn't had one since before we left the house, and there was no way to get me into that shower at the motel.

"Shower," I murmured and the craned my head back to look at Dean. "Uh...where can I take a shower?"

He grinned mischievously and I ducked my head, causing him to chuckle and softly guide me down the steps towards the unknown; where did Sam go?

"Gonna have to teach ya some stuff you know," Dean broke the silence after he had led me to the bathroom, leaning against the door frame as he watched me adjust the water. "How to defend yourself...how to fight..."

"I figured," I murmur and straighten myself, giving him a slightly panicked look. "I mean...I can't just sit around here..."

Dean pushed off the frame and approached me, cupping my face warmly between his hands; the kiss was soft, but almost impatient. "You don't have to do a damn thing though," his eyes were firm. "You won't go out unless I can't help it, I'm not having you die on me, okay? These things...the men that attacked you are nothing compared to what lurks out there. You may not see that...but its the truth."

I hesitated but nodded and was rewarded with another soft kiss. He moved his lips from mine to my forehead, my eyes still closed tightly; I don't know what I expected. I don't know what to do, I don't know the right choices here and I...there are too many complications with this situation.

"I'll go get your bag," he murmured and I sighed when he let me go, watching him with that same panicked look on my face.

"Okay," I said softly, lips hesitating but he was already gone. "Okay..."

~~~

"We haven't heard from her in a week, Jessica."

Jessica sighed, nodding though they couldn't possibly see her through the phone. "I know Mrs. Roberts, that's why I'm outside of her house right now."

There was a shaky sigh from the other side of the speaker and Jessica craned her neck, like that would help her see through the darkness in the windows. Esther's house was empty, her phone was off, the power had been cut. It was like she had never been there, with how clean everything was, every bit of her belongings gone. Even the carvings they had done im the wood of the front porch railing was gone; drunken memories wiped clean.

Jessica had her suspicions, but they still didn't match up with the condition of the house. Would they really wipe an entire house just to kidnap her?

"Jessica."

She screamed and dropped the phone, hearing Esther's mother screaming her name and worries, even when the cellphone clattered around her feet. Jessica whipped around, back pressing against the steering wheel as she eyed the man suddenly in her back seat. He was staring at her like he didn't understand why she was freaking out, which almost pissed her off but Jessica wasn't stupid.

"Wh-Who the fuck are you!?"

"Castiel," he said plainly. "I am here about your friend Esther."

Jessica glared her nostrils. "Wh-What did you do with her?! Wheres Esther?"

Castiel cocked his head and nodded. "You have every right to be panicking, seeing as they made her leave without telling you anything..." He shook his head. "But that is why I am here."

"They...you mean those guys? They did make her leave?"

Castiel furrowed his brow. "No, no I assure you she went of her own volition," he paused. "And she is safe, almost happy. All things considered, she has every right to be so attached to the Winchesters now," he paused again at Jessica's bewildered expression. "Well, this doesn't matter. You won't remember anything after this."

"After wha -"

There was a powerful charge through her and Jessica cringed, eyes rolling in her head as the feeling passed through her. Castiel gave her an apologetic look as she slumped over the middle console, but he stepped out of the car anyway. He opened the door drivers door and reached for the cellphone, where Esther's mother was still frantic on the other end.

"I do apologize," Castiel sighed. "But it is as fruitless as Dean says when this happens."

And there is was, a small, strangled cry from the other end of the line and the sound of the phone clattering to the floor. Castiel sighed again and pressed the End key, pocketing the phone as he eyed Jessica's unconscious form.

"She will not be happy," Castiel murmured as Jessica began to stir.

He was gone before she looked up.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so ashamed of how long its been since I've updated this. But if anyone has read my more recent pieces and updates know about my problems with my former co-author and her inability to be any help to me.

In a month she'll be. . . _better_.

Not healed, not by a long shot, but the patience of the Winchesters apparently knows no bounds. They let her take one step at a time, Dean usually leaning more towards frustration the longer she takes. But, he really is patient with her, more patient than he has been with anyone since Sam was a kid. And Sam. . .Dean doesn't want to acknowledge the ever-intensifying relationship he and Esther has.

Its soft and it's kind, patient, intimate.

Dean understands why, completely, but it doesn't mean its not annoying somewhere beneath the surface. Sam is far more patient, far more tender, far more willing to take it slow where Dean wants her able to defend herself now. He doesn't ever want to see her be beaten down again, by man or monster.

And no, he would never admit such crap out loud.

"It hurts! D-Dean _please_ don't make me do it anymore!"

He winced but didn't let up. "Come on, just one more, its not that hard."

"Dean. . ."

"Shut up Sam," Dean snapped over his shoulder before he looked back down at Esther with those sympathetic but hard eyes. "Just one more, you're doin good."

Her eyes creased in the edges and she nodded softly, fingers threading behind her head as she strained. Just one more sit up? He had faith she could pull that one measly little sit up off without a hitch; she'd managed ten with that messed up stomach and Sam said she couldn't possibly tear anything but there was still some pain. . .

She needed to work through it.

Dean was soft on her, but he wouldn't be getting that soft any time soon. She needed to be stronger, so she could make it on her own to an extent instead of constantly relying on them; they couldn't be there all the time.

He blinked back into reality when she fell out, panting with her limp little arms spread around her.

He chuckled softly and reached for her shirt, examining the red splotches that had spread around her wounds. No bleeding, no popped stitches, Hell, she didn't even need the gauze anymore; Sam was pretty sure that nasty little gash would never heal right, but he was close to taking the stitches out. Dean laid her shirt back down and gave her stomach a gentle pat, which made her groan, but he doubted it was pain.

"See, told ya you could do it," he grunted as he pushed up from his crouch.

"You're _mean_ ," she whined, rolling onto her side; her eyes bugged a little as she wrapped her arms around her stomach. " _Ow_ ," she whimpered.

Sam sighed again but gave Esther a slightly reassuring smile as he bent to help her to her feet. "Ya know, despite the protesting, I think you did great," Esther grumbled as she steadied herself against his arm. "I'm serious. Dean's right, its time for you to start doing more than rehabilitating, we need to start training you to fight."

"Hand-to-hand is gonna be a little rough," her eyes moved to Dean, watching him roll his sleeves up; he noticed her attention and chuckled. "Don't worry, babe, we're not startin that today."

She nodded softly. "Are we uh. . .are we done today?"

Dean nodded, yawning into his fist, tucking the other hand into the front of his jeans. "Yep, you kept me up most the night. I need me a good nap."

Esther blushed a little. "Sorry," damn didn't he love it when she did that. "I can sleep with Sam tonight. . ."

"You _do_ have your own room," Sam said softly, placing a hand against her shoulder blade. "Wanna give sleeping alone a try again? I mean, I know it doesn't have the best appeal to it considering what happened last time. . ."

She'd broken things.

She'd been unconscious, sleep walking, and had managed to break both lamps, her desk chair, before Sam had her safely secured. Dean wanted to wake her up, but Sam had been adamant about it so Dean let him be. There was more damage, nothing major, but it was a hassle to clean up and Esther had cried for days about whatever she had seen in that nightmare.

They could only imagine.

Quick changes in her life, the assault, having to handle the two of them. . .honestly, Dean expected more of a breakdown but if she wasn't completely comatose, he could handle it. She hadn't had an incident in a week, having moved between Dean and Sam's rooms like clockwork. They didn't mind, for vastly different reason to be honest, but Dean wouldn't admit the big reason.

_Ever._

"I can try," she said after a pregnant pause and a deep, firm breath. "I don't know, maybe I should be cuffed to the bed or something."

"Look, sweetheart, I know I said we could try some different stuff in the bedroom but I think that's -"

"Dean, will you shut the Hell up?"

Despite Sam's snap, Dean chuckled and Esther turned red with a smile on her face. No, adventurous sex was definitely not her thing, but Dean had managed to coax some things out of her; he wouldn't push it too far, he didn't want her to be scared of him.

"How bout you two go play house while I nap," Dean waved a hand at the two of them. "None of us have eaten today."

"Of course, we do the work and you sleep."

"Obviously," Dean winked at Esther. "I'm comin for you later."

Her skin darkened but she nodded and then turned her attention to Sam as he began to instruct her on something, Dean didn't care to listen. What Esther didn't know was they were heading out in a week to assist another hunter on their job; well, if they didn't check in by Wednesday, that is. They'd have to go to the South in that fucking heat and it seemed to be the ideal vacation spot for vampires. They didn't need to drag her into that without any knowledge or way to handle herself if something went wrong - which seemed to happen a lot. She knew how to use a gun now, or a pistol anyway, and now came the annoying exercising to be able to use any of the defensive moves they taught her.

Dean wasn't really teacher material.

"Does she know?"

He wants so bad to be used to this, but when Cas speaks, Dean jumps. He glares at Cas, who is standing in his doorway; did he. . .did he watch Dean change? That's not a very comforting thought.

" _No_ ," he says slowly, tugging his nightshirt down over his head. "She hasn't asked, so I haven't said anything about it. I know it seems wrong to you but. . ." Dean paused and it led to a sigh. "She's still healing. Nightmares and plagued by shadows, the last thing she needs right now is to be told no one she ever loved remembers her, knows she existed in the first place. I don't want to add to her nightmares, okay? For now. . .for now the secret stays with us. Not even Sam knows."

"How difficult it must be to burden yourself with so many unnecessary secrets."

Dean grumbled and perked up a little when he saw Esther, a little sweaty and a little haggard, but bright eyed and focused intensely on Cas. Dean was waiting for the moment she was comfortable around him, but Cas had this odd thing where he acted like a curious little bird when she was around. Cocking his head this way and that, stepping close too fast when she did something odd. . .not blinking for long periods of time.

"Hey sweet cheeks," Dean broke the quick fall of awkward tension. "Thought you and Sam were gonna play house?"

She cleared her throat softly and gave him a brighter smile, but it looked forced. "I asked him about pressure points," she said softly.

Dean chuckled. "Ah, okay, well take a shower sweetheart and get some rest. After all that hard work, you deserve it," he paused. "And I need to check on what's happenin' downstairs when you're all cleaned up."

She nodded quickly, still shy but also somewhat comfortable with this now. She ducked her head and turned down the hallway, mumbling softly to herself about something. Cas' eyes followed her, leaning back at the waist to watch her walk away; when he saw Dean's annoyed and peeved glare, he tried to pull that whole innocent look routine on him, but the Hunter wasn't falling for it.

"Gotta stop doin' stuff like that, Cas," Dean sighed, grabbing the edge of his sheets and shaking them out. "She's already easy enough to spook, you just always make people so nervous."

"All I am doing -"

"Is being an angel," Dean sighed and slouched down into his bed. "Just work on not staring at her like she's a termite farm, okay? I'm trying to coax her out of that timid little shell of hers, I don't need your shadow making it harder for me."

"Does she know you are training her to be a Hunter," Dean sighed. "Do you plan on telling her _anything_ , Dean?"

"She'll back out," Dean snapped, giving him a slightly bewildered look. "I don't have time to tip toe around this any longer, we have to get back on the job and. . .I know she won't manage sitting here alone all day, almost every day. And her having some skills to fight, could help her self-esteem, make her just a little less helpless. . ."

Cas swallowed slowly though he didn't need to. "Dean, do you care about this woman," Dean grumbled and fell back into his pillows. "Do you really believe that, if she chooses Sam, that you can be okay with her decision?"

"Do we really have to do this tonight," Dean groaned and glared over the edge of his sheets. "I'm tired, we have a big job coming up, get out of my room."

Castiel frowned and did as he said, by turning around and walking out of the door instead of leaving his usual route. Dean stared at the door for a long time, even after it was shut.

Cas looked back and forth down the ends of the hallway and turned left, shoes clicking softly against the floor. He could hear the shower running when he stopped in front of the bathroom door, fingers twitching at his sides.

He was used to hiding some things from the boys, but this was an innocent woman, he felt terribly ill about this. And Dean did not plan on telling her that her own family did not know of her existence anymore.

Perhaps he was doing the right thing, perhaps Esther would take the news horribly, go off the rails, but. . .

Cas jumped when the door swung open, confronted with giant eyes and flushed cheeks. She gripped the knot in her towel tightly, bracing a hand against the door and jumping back a step. She was ready to run, hide, playing prey with those wild eyes.

_No._

"C-Castiel," she whispered, steam curling from behind her against her damp hair. "What are you. . .what are you doing?"

He visibly hesitated, face relaxing enough for Esther herself to relax, if only by a small fraction. She swallowed in a difficult manner and shuffled back another step, like she were afraid of Castiel. He had never given her a reason to fear him, had been patient, given her the space she needed, and yet she was still terrified of him. Of course, she seemed terrified of all men save for the Winchesters, whom Castiel thought had an unhealthy relationship with this girl.

What was so special about her?

"I apologize," he took a step back and offered her a disarming smile, which didn't work. "I seem to have gotten lost in thought. Did I scare you?"

Her eyes flickered right and left, then she nodded. "Yeah," she murmured. "Yeah you did. . ."

He frowned. "I apologize again," he paused. "Esther," she perked up a little. "You do not plan on tearing these two apart, do you?"

He could see a little bit of hope crack behind her irises but blunt was his default. He did not need the boys fighting over this, and Sam seemed prepared for it in case she chose him over Dean. It was a childish predicament, one which Castiel obviously frowned upon, but he couldn't talk the boys out of this.

Perhaps he could work easier with her.

"N-No," her fingers tightened against her cleavage. "No I would never dream -"

"Then be careful with this situation," Castiel was aware of his eyes narrowing. "Should -"

"Cas!"

His jaw grit and Esther jumped at the baritone that clipped against the walls. Dean was standing in the center of the hallway, arms crossed over his chest and feet spread in an intimidating stance.

When Esther looked back to Castiel, he was gone, and she felt ill.

* * *

Its an awfully childish thing to do, but she liked the way it made her feel. She can be sexy with Sam, a little dominant too, and it feeds her in more way than one. She's tender, deep in her muscles, still, but she lets her left leg slide lazily down over his hip to the bed; her fingers on the same side pluck at his collar, her lips soft against his.

And he holds her hips like she likes, is slow with her, so unlike his brother - at the moment.

Dean likes hot, intense kissing and then genuine love making. Slow and steady, giving her just the kind of tenderness she craves at the moment.

Sam likes slow, almost sluggish, wet kissing and then she can visibly see the jump in his muscles as he tries to keep the sex tender but there's always a reasonable dose of roughness. . .

Esther doesn't mind _that_ either.

But tonight she does, because Castiel had rooted deep into her brain with just a few words. Was there something she didn't know? Were the boys fighting behind her back? She knew the situation wasn't the most common, it was downright pathetic to a point, a little twisted in others, but she had yet to see either man act like he was ready to fight for her.

Esther did have to make a decision soon, Sam had even said he was okay with sharing until she tired of them, which she swore she would never do.

But sometimes, she wondered how long she could stand looking at herself when she was doing this between them.

And it was selfish, because she was using them more than they - if they - were using her.

It wasn't like she was sapping them of money or spirit, she was just seeing what she could do, make them do, with just a flick of the hips or the bat of an eyelash. Turns out, a woman could do a lot with these things, but Esther was trying to not take advantage of that. She cared for the boys, loved them even and they made her feel so fucking safe, she didn't think she could ever hurt them even if unintentionally.

"Esther?"

Her lids fluttered and opened, met with those unusual eyes of Sam's; she wanted so badly to give them a name, but all she had was beautiful.

"I-I'm sorry," why as she apologizing?

And Sam chuckled, reaching up to brush hair back from her face. "You don't need to apologize, just worried me there for a minute. You stopped moving."

She swallowed thickly and pushed back her heavy hair, looking just at the corner of his mouth. "Sorry," she apologized again. "I just. . .Castiel scared me today and I just. . ."

"What did he say," there's a sudden edge to Sam's voice and Esther gives him a small frown. "Cas is always saying the wrong thing, even when he means well."

Esther sighed and lifted her head just a little higher, the fabric of her shirt tugging and revealing her cleavage; she didn't miss those eyes. "You and Dean haven't. . .been arguing about. . .me, right?"

Sam's face levels in honest confusion. "What? No, no what did Cas tell you? Dean and I are just fine with how things are -"

"So someone said something," there's a bite in her tone and she in turn bites her tongue. "I don't want anyone fighting over me like that - I'll just -"

Sam takes her face between his big hands and Esther has soft tears in the corner of her eyes. "Esther," he whispers. "Esther, calm down, take a breath," she does. "Good, now what did Cas say?"

She sniffed and adverted her eyes to where she twisted a loose thread of his collar between her fingers. "H-He said something about if I was. . .if you two were gonna fight over me or something like that," not exactly, but that's what she took from it.

Sam sighed roughly and let his head rest against the pillow, one hand sliding down her throat, thumb applying a bit of pressure to her skin; she closed her eyes. "Gonna have to talk to him about what he says," Sam whispered. "You don't worry about any of this, okay? Yeah, things were said but I was just asking Dean some personal questions and it just - hey, are you alright?"

"No," Esther whispered before she even opened her eyes, his thumb wiping the stray tear from her lips. "I just don't want to come between the two of you - I-I can leave whenever you want me to and. . .and go home, I won't fight I promise."

"Why would we ever want you to leave," Esther shrugged, eyes downcast. "Dean's gonna have to talk to Cas, he shouldn't fill your head with stuff like this."

"But -"

"Its okay," Esther's jaw snapped shut, a bit of annoyance in her chest that he didn't let her finish her sentence. "You just need to focus on our training, okay?"

Esther chewed on her bottom lip softly and nodded, closing her eyes when he pulled her forward to plant a quick kiss to her forehead. Her skin prickled as he exhaled into her bangs, a hand tightening in his shirt.

"I-I. . ." She licked her lips, pushing up a little. "I wanna sleep with Dean tonight."

His jaw grit like he wanted to protest, but Esther didn't hesitate in sliding off of the bed. She tugged down the hem of the t-shirt she wore, giving Sam a small smile, which he returned along with the softness in his face. She didn't want to make him mad, but the air had changed in a second between them, to something tense and Esther didn't want to try and mend that tonight.

She heard Sam sigh as she shut the door behind her. "Sorry," she murmured, taking quick, soft steps towards Dean's room.

She shouldn't apologize anyway, because she has no reason because it wasn't like she confessed to something a tad heinous. All she had done was taken what Castiel had said and passed it on, because she had been bottling it up since dinner and sitting on it.

She hadn't wanted to say anything, live in ignorant bliss for just a moment longer but. . .there was no denying that things were going to start becoming routine soon.

The Winchesters routine.

They had jobs, not conventional ones, but jobs nonetheless and the monsters wouldn't wait for Esther to come out of her shell, so perhaps she was grateful Castiel had broken the ice tonight.

"Dean," she murmured as she rasped her knuckles softly against his door. "Dean, can I come in?"

There was some shuffling on the other side of the door. "Yeah, sweetheart, come on in."

Her heart fluttered at the sound and she opened the door, shutting it quickly behind her. She and Dean. . .had a sort of shallow relationship, and she liked it in a way.

He was hot, what could she say?

"You okay," he questioned as Esther practically dove beneath the sheets. "Did Cas show up again?"

Esther shook her head, sinking back into the pillows. "No, no I just wanted to come in here with you," she paused and then cocked her knee, rubbing her ankle up and down his leg.

Dean chuckled and looked over at her, narrowing his eyes slightly when she jumped. "I know what you want," he smirked, fingers brushing close to the junction of her thighs. "Do you really think you deserve something like that after that weak-ass performance you gave us?"

"I'll do better tomorrow," she murmured, tilting her hips up towards his fingers but he pulled away. "Dean, please, I promise I'll work harder."

"Mmmm, how hard are you willing to work?"

"Still hurts a little," she murmured, breath hitching in her throat when his fingers ghosted over the crotch of her panties. "Please Dean. . ."

"Love listening to you beg," he murmured, fingers stroking up and down her wet pussy. "I don't appreciate you gettin all hot and bothered with someone else, ya know."

"Dean, I didn't -"

"Ssh," he murmured, his fingers sliding past the edge of her panties. "How bout you just make a couple delicious noises for me. . ."

Esther inhaled sharply when his fingers found her sensitive little clit, rubbing soft circles. Her eyes fluttered closed and she released a shaky moan, hips bucking up towards his hand. His lips pressed down against her throat, teeth nipping behind her ear. Her fingers trembled into his hair, gripping hard at the roots and moaning against his jaw.

"D-Dean," she whimpered. "Dean I need you. . . _inside_ of me right now!"

"Mm," he murmured against her ear, fingers thrusting lazily in and out of her. "Is that right?"

" _Yes!_ " She hissed, muscles clenching in her lower belly. "Yes Dean, please!"

"Whatever you want, babe."

She squeaked and her chest rose off of the bed when he planted a firm, hot kiss against her mouth. She felt his hardness against her thigh, stomach fluttering when she realized he had been naked when she came in.

"Wh-What were you doing when I knocked," she murmured, craning her neck hard against his nipping teeth.

"Jerking off," he stated like she should have known, and she should have. "Spread your legs a little bit, baby, let me scooch on in there. . ."

She spread her legs too fast, whimpered in pain when it shot up her thighs. His hands gripped the tender muscles, kissing her gently as he spread them apart.

"Not a race," he whispered in her ear.

"But I need you Dean," she grabbed tight to his bicep.

He chuckled at her, fucking chuckled, and kissed her cheek sweetly. "I know baby girl."

He thrust into her easily, in one swift motion, and Esther gave a sharp keen that trailed into a shaky, airy moan. She rolled her hips up against his, muscles clenching and making Dean groan in turn. She never heard him make many noises like that, like the little moans he gives when she pets his hair during sex, like those groans right there.

Turns her on even more.

"Move," she ordered in a soft murmur, nudging his shoulder a little.

"So bossy," his voice was up a pitch. "God, you feel so fucking good."

Esther hummed as she ran her right leg up his thigh, hooking it around his waist and pulling him a little closer to her. Close as possible, every inch of skin touching every inch of skin; needed to feel a little smothered, safe wrapped up tight. So, whenever he pulled back, she whimpered, whenever he plunged back in, she keened, rolled her spine. It sent those little bursts of dopamine into her brain, made her pleasure ends multiply and scream.

Oh wait, that was her.

Because his hips were hitting hers so deliciously, plunging in and out, something hard and warm, solid, fitting just right.

And his lips, his teeth, running over her skin, up and down, back and forth, hands groping her breasts and chaffing a tender nipple against the fabric of her shirt. Should have taken it off so those wet lips could seal around her, be so gentle like his hips. She could feel all of him, stretching her because fuck he was big, not Sam big, but damn he was close.

_No, don't think about him._

_Think about Dean._

_Think about how hot his skin is, how he pulls you so tight against his chest, kisses you with so much emotion you feel the need to ask about it whenever you're done and sweaty and yet still wrapped up in each other._

"D-Dean," Esther moaned, licking her lips and arching her chest against his, twisting so he had better access to the tender slope of her collar bone.

"Don't cum yet baby girl," he whispered in her ear, lips wet. "Need ya to hold out for me a little longer, think you can do that?"

"I-I can. . .oh Dean," she was already lit like a flare when she got in here, she couldn't go around making promises.

"Do that again babe," he grunted in her ear, making her whimper when he literally slammed his hips into hers.

Esther buried her face into Dean's neck, her lips quivering against the stubble down his jaw. She squeezed her muscles around his cock, drawing another groan out of his chest. His hips stuttered, hand running up under her shirt, thumb brushing hard over her nipple. Her insides quivered, back arching as she reached her peak, lips popping into a firm little O.

"O- _Oh fuck Dean!_ " She cried, nails digging into his shoulder blades. "Dean!"

"Oh fuck baby girl," he growled into her hair, hips slamming into hers and ceasing.

Esther pried her nails from his back, one on his arm, the other tangling in the sheets as she felt that spurt of warmth in her lower belly.

Birth control would be very helpful by now.

She jumped when Dean's wet lips pressed against her temple. "I'll drive ya tomorrow," he murmured, peeling his skin away from hers.

Esther nodded mutely, fingers twitching at her sides. She hesitated before rolling her head towards him, watching him stare at the ceiling, chest heaving.

"Dean, I don't know what to do," she whispered.

He arched an eyebrow and looked over at her, eyes flickering around her face for a moment. "You're a smart girl," he murmured. "You'll figure it out."


	12. Chapter 12

I know everyone was expecting a new chapter, and I do apologize for how long I've been absent from this story.

I've been doing major overhauls of several of my stories on FanFiction.net and I found a discarded idea in an old file on my phone and just knew I had to implement it on Esther, hence this chapter and my absence.

I am redoing Esther, but I am keeping all chapters up to chapter six, discarding the others. Those first six will just be slightly edited and I will delete seven to eleven.

I apologize for the inconvenience, sincerely ❤


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